


Rewind

by JadeTigress



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Amnesia, Angel-Typical Sexual Humor, Asexual Character, Author invents Alastor Magic rules just because, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, because why else is he tolerating this man, meaning Amnesia Alastor somehow convinces himself hes accidentally dating Angel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-01-24 03:31:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 33,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21331570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeTigress/pseuds/JadeTigress
Summary: After Sir Pentious, along with the help of a mysterious ally, actually manages to pull off a successful Evil Plan, Alastor is left weakened and with a case of amnesia.Unwilling to be caught in a state of weakness, he does his best to fake it and play along with the wild antics of these strangers surrounding him, as his uncontrolled magic slowly increases the problem, causing all sorts of unexpected complications.Husk is half-concerned Alastor's magic will accidentally incinerate someone. Charlie is pleasantly surprised at how helpful Alastor is being. Vaggie is eternally suspicious that his strange behavior is a devious plan to destroy the hotel. Niffty is ecstatic Alastor isn't creating any more bloody messes.Angel is just mostly confused why Alastor is being so nice to him.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Charlie Magne/Vaggie, RadioDust, what is the name for charlie/vaggie
Comments: 157
Kudos: 1163





	1. Mr Magpie

**Author's Note:**

> After hyperfixating on Hazbin for a week and infodumping to all my friends, I got super focused and wrote a solid 15000 word first chapter, so, uh, here you go?
> 
> The song I listened to on repeat while writing/editing the first chapter (and the lyrics I threw on the front of it) is "Mr Magpie" by the Electro Swing Circus, give it a listen!

_ I saw it coming, he won’t change his ways, _

_ Mister Magpie is in it for the thrill of the chase. _

_ I saw it coming, should have raised the alarm. _

_ Are you gonna be another victim of his charms? _

_ Boy, you’re making waves, in the same old ways, _

_ Times are changing, you’re still playing the same old games._

* * *

The day of the disaster, as most disastrous days do, started off completely average. Or at least as average as a day in Hell could manage to make itself.

The only aberrant aspect of the day was that, for the majority of it, Charlie and Vaggie were away from the hotel. Off interviewing a potential new resident, Alastor hadn’t gotten the exact details of the trip, only that the two women were going off to the inner pentagon of Pentagram city for the day and wouldn’t be back until late afternoon. 

Vaggie, of course, had protested at leaving Alastor at the hotel, eternally distrustful, but the demon had waved off her suggestion that he return to his radio tower for the time being just as he waved her towards the door.

“Don’t worry dear,” he said. He placed a hand on the small of her back as if to lead her out, and deftly avoided the knife she materialized to swipe at his face. After a tense moment, he squinted at her almost imperceptibly and gave her a small shove that made her stumble forward a step and spit out a curse, before folding his hands neatly behind his back and turning to Charlie. “I’m sure all the residents will be on their best behavior when they see myself making the rounds, it’s no trouble at all.”

Charlie gave Vaggie a reprimanding look, to which Vaggie rolled her eyes and dematerialized the knife. She then aimed a nervous smile at Alastor, who just smiled wider.

“We’ll only be gone until the afternoon at the latest! I really think this new resident might pan out, but they need to be reassured. Traveling out here can be dangerous for lesser demons, but if everything pans out, we’ll escort them here and be back before dinner!” She clapped her hands excitedly and let out an excited squeaky noise. Alastor’s head tilted ever so slightly to the side with a slight mumble of static, and he gave a normal closed-mouth smile, hiding his razor teeth.

“I’m very excited for you dear,” he said, closing his eyes and leaning forward to pat her head. Unlike Vaggie, she just let out a huff at the patronizing touch but shot Alastor a smile back. 

He’d noted she’d been doing it more and more lately, hiding her endless disappointments or frustrations behind a smile just like him. Or at least, she’d learned not to show the weakness of a frown to him specifically. Clever girl.

“Thanks again, Alastor,” she said. “You’ve been doing so much for the hotel recently and- I promise! After this maybe you can take some time-”

“Oh no, no, no, dear, don’t fret!” Alastor cut her off, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and leading her towards the door. Out of the corner he saw Vaggie tense and, likely, materialize another weapon, but he refused to acknowledge her.

Which wasn’t to say he wasn’t acutely and precisely aware of her presence and how to neutralize her.

“Eyes on the prize and all that! The work is _ relentless _after all and we need all hands on deck. Now, if anyone needs a break, it’s you, darling,” he said, materializing his microphone and gesturing wildly with it in his left hand. He heard Vaggie make an affronted sound as her knife was tugged out of her hand and sent flying into the bullseye of the dartboard by the bar. 

“Oh I wish,” she chuckled, “but-”

“Then I insist! Send your new resident back and take the evening for yourself dear,” Alastor said, giving the other a wink. “My treat.”

Charlie spluttered for a moment, faltering, and Vaggie definitely made a suspicious scoff directly forty five degrees behind him and three feet away. 

“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” Charlie hedged, but Alastor quickly overpowered her.

“You simply must! When will you be in that half of the pentagram again with everything going on here? I know a simply delightful restaurant that has the _ best _Banana Foster- now there’s something I wish I had time to try authentically back in the day!”

“Do they serve _ venison? _” He heard Vaggie mutter under her breath. A detail he did not acknowledge, but noted nonetheless. It was amusing to rile her up, but he never truly ignored her hostility. 

“Here,” with a wave of his hand Charlie’s “hellphone” pinged with a search result.

“I- well- I don’t know-” Charlie replied, but Alastor could she her wavering.

“Don’t worry, no one will dare misbehave while I’m in charge,” Alastor said, gently maneuvering Charlie to the front door with one last tug. 

“Shouldn’t _ that _be what we’re worried about,” Vaggie spoke up, shoving herself between Charlie and Alastor as he finally released the other woman. 

Charlie, who had let curiosity win over her and had begun looking at the restaurant page, spoke up. “Actually Vaggie it has been a while since we’ve been able to spend some time together alone, it could be nice!”

Vaggie shot Alastor the most hostile look, clearly threatening and saying _ I’m about done with you manipulating my girlfriend. _Alastor just chuckled with a burst of static and squinted his eyes closed in a smile. 

“Have a good day you two, I’ll see you this evening,” he said, finally ushering them out the door and watching as the two took the steps down to Charlie’s limousine. 

He closed the door and turned back to the hotel. With a pause, his ears pivoted backwards and his eyes glazed over with white noise.

The sound of a car starting and tires rolling across pavement distorted by heavy radio static rang in his ears. 

“Charlie! I can’t believe you agreed to that. We really should come back as soon as we can,” Vaggie’s voice buzzed. “Who knows what the Radio Demon will do left there by himself!”

“We’ve left Alasor there before Vaggie, it’s fi-” Charlie’s voice, equally muffled, spoke.

“Not for an entire day!” Vaggie replied.

“Come on Vaggie, we haven’t been able to go on a date without Angel making some comment in over a month… don’t you think it would be nice?”

Charlie’s voice fizzled out towards the end. Alastor’s right ear twitched, and after a moment of silence the signal grew clear once again.

“I- yeah, of course… I’m sorry I’ve just- you know I’m just as stressed as you. I didn’t want to make you think I didn’t still care about spending time with you… I mean you know I love you right?”

“Of course! And I love you too!”

There was the muffled sound of the two giggling, before Vaggie speaking up, an odd hint to her voice.

“Too bad it’s just dinner, who do we have to kill to get a night to our-”

Alastor blinked suddenly, eyes returning to his average red pupils and focusing back in on the world in front of him. His nose scrunched for a moment, and his left ear twitched before he straightened out and scanned the room.

“What was that all about, huh?” Husk spoke up from where he was slouched behind the bar, hand already curled around a whiskey glass. He looked an average amount of hungover for this hour in the morning, so Alastor didn’t comment.

“Oh, just doing some more charity work, of course,” Alastor replied with a chuckle. “But no time to chit-chat, I do have rounds to make!”

He began to march past the bar, further into the hotel, but stopped short when Husk cleared his throat loudly.

“Alastor, may I kindly ask that you clean up your reality bullshit before you make a fucked up voodoo mess of my lobby?” he drolled, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Alastor tilted his head and stared at Husk, who sighed and pointed back towards the door. Alastor’s head snapped 180 degrees backwards, while his body noticeably did not, to look where the other was pointing. He ignored Husk’s affronted noise at the action.

“Ah, apologizes, Husker!” Alastor chirped as his eyes located the stray sigil still hovering in the air. It was surrounded by a mess of red and gray static that hung perfectly still in the air. 

“Yeah, yeah, just get rid of that shit will ya?” Husk replied, rolling his eyes and taking another sip of his cheap whiskey. 

Alastor snapped his fingers, and the sigil disappeared instantly. However, the static remained. Alastor’s expression remained the same, but Husk raised an eyebrow. 

“Uh, _ all- _”

Before he could finish, Alastor made another gesture, brushing at the sleeve of his coat as if trying to scrub off a particularly stubborn stain. It took three swipes, each one causing the static to fade before it was finally erased from existence.

“Right as range! Now-”

“You gonna fix that shit sometime soon?” Husk asked with a frown and a squint. 

“Why I have no idea what you’re so vulgarly speaking of my dear compatriot,” Alastor responded, tilting his head and giving Husk an inquisitive look.

“You’re bleeding radio gunk all over the place, Niffty’s been bitching about stains. Don’t think anyone else has spotted it yet but one of these days you’re gonna rub your feet on the carpet and static shock someone out of existence if you don’t go burn that off-”

“I appreciate the friendly advice Husker, but it’s unwarranted and I would ask you to refrain from such presumptions in the future.” Despite the fact that he spoke with a warm grin, his eyes flickered with slightly more light than usual. Husk just scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Whatever man, go blow up somewhere else, huh?” Husk sniffed. “It’s too early for this.”

“Indeed,” Alastor replied, watching with amusement as Husk punctuated the words with a chug of whiskey. 

Alastor hummed and marched off, beginning his morning routine of hotel rounds. 

He truthfully didn’t mind being left to do the daily rounds of Hazbin Hotel (though it wasn’t a chore he’d take up everyday of his own will, that would be a bit too drudging). No, that wouldn’t do, but every once in a while when either Charlie or Vaggie were unavailable, he pleased himself by dropping in unexpectedly on the more skittish residents to see just how miserably they were flailing and failing- in that order.

He had class, he’d never actually hurt a resident of the hotel on hotel grounds, that would be downright rude, but that didn’t stop his grin from sharpening at the edges as the rabbit demon on the 13th floor almost fainted everytime he peeked his head through the door. 

While he knocked on yet another door and listened as a resident told him some rather vulgar things he should be doing instead of bothering the demon behind it, he contemplated Husk’s words.

It was true, his powers had been more active lately, and he hadn’t been able to burn any excess energy in quite a while. There’d been an incident with Vox about a month ago, but aside from that Alastor had only been able to _ really _use his power to reinforce his connection with the hotel.

It was partially the reason he’d ever so instantly ushered Charlie and Vaggie out the door, he needed to reinforce the trickle of his energy to the hotel, sharpen his sigils and increase his passive influence, without either of the other women noticing. It would be so much faster if he could just use his full power to (for the lack of a better term, and yes he saw the cliche) cannibalize the aura of the hotel and replace it with his own, but that would likely end in the mild to complete destruction of the building, which wouldn’t do.

Only a select few demons knew: that was exactly how he’d cleared the real estate for his tower. Some buildings just aren’t made structurally sound enough to carry his full weight!

So it was either drip his energy around the building like a leaky faucet so no other demons caught wind and fled, or wait for a day where perhaps two of the more perceptive demons were unavailable to increase the pressure ever so slightly.

And fully beyond that, he _ really _needed to go destroy something soon. Perhaps he could host a new broadcast soon. Scattering the signal across all the corners Hell was usually a cathartic way to calm his reality breaking aura. 

Ah, but that would simply have to wait for another day. For now, he had work to do.

The resident behind the door had a literal heart attack when it was the Radio Demon (complete with dials and static) that kicked the door down and not the push-over that was the Princess of Hell. Alastor had a good laugh, before snapping his fingers and sending an electrical shock into the demon to jumpstart his heart once more.

“I’ll mark that down as ‘mixed progress’ then!” He replied cheerfully, jotting down an update to the piece of paper adorned with the residents name as the demon wheezed back into consciousness. He dematerialized the paper and politely waved goodbye to the resident before moving onto the next door. 

Despite the minor setback from earlier, it was a smooth day and Alastor was in a high mood. There were a few residents he couldn’t manage to find in their rooms or on the premise, but after consulting with Husk it appeared as though they’d already checked out and quit the program. He made a mental note of their names and typical addresses, filing it away for a rainy day. 

He also managed to make great strides in reinforcing his power over the hotel. For just a moment, the hallway he passed through while whistling cheerfully, lit up with neon red markings when he passed by, giving him away. His shadow briefly left his side to sweep up and down the nearby hallways, before turning back to look at him and nod, confirming no other resident was visible. With a snap, and a simple illusionary distortion, he corrected the issue with reality. 

To locate the rest of the missing residents, he strolled down to the front door and threw it wide open, leaning out and scanning the street with scrolling eyes and a “welcoming” smile. The few demons walking by on the sidewalk jumped, and upon seeing him, began walking ever so slightly faster. Oh no, that wasn’t smart showing their fear like that! He recorded their faces in his expansive memory before moving on.

The few other missing residents were located as he let his energy crackle, and an almost imperceptible static washed out over the surrounding area and streets. His shadow disappeared into wisps of extending energy like smoke, as it scattered about the nearby street. 

He couldn’t discern their exact location, without extending a _ noticeable _amount of power, but they were likely nearby strolling about this edge of the pentagram. Perfectly fine. He’d check in on them when they returned and update their files accordingly.

However, despite this wide search, there was still _ one _pesky little resident that didn’t seem to be in the nearby area. 

And _ of course _ it was Angel Dust.

Alastor let out a breath filled with radio static as he extended his reach farther and still felt no sign of the notorious trouble-maker. Ah, well, at least locating the escapee would hopefully be some more entertainment for the day! With his good mood he’d hopefully be able to tolerate whatever annoyance Angel aimed his way without giving into the urge to do something truly rude, like manifesting his true form or murdering Angel on the spot.

His shadow returned to his side, briefly tugging at the edges of its sleeves and brushing down its coat, all while Alastor remained still eyes still scanning the street, before it faded and fell back into step with his motions.

He clapped his hands together, returning back into the hotel and closing the door with a _ slam _ . The sound caused a beetle-like demon sitting at the bar to startle. Unlike the others though, the man recovered, nodding his head in acknowledgement and smiling slightly before slowly and casually taking his leave without ever truly turning his back to the Radio Demon. Now _ that _was a proper way to extricate oneself from the presence of a predator! Bravo.

It was now afternoon, and several demons had already made their way down to the lobby and were milling about, though most shied away as Alastor moved through the area.

“Hello again, Husker!” Alastor exclaimed, sitting jauntily on the recently evacuated seat of the beetle demon. “Any updates on the moral today?” he asked, crossing his legs and smiling at the bartender.

“Dismal as always,” Husk replied. He didn’t even bother to look up from the glass he was polishing, the roll of his eyes the only movement in his expression. Perhaps eternally polishing bar glasses was part of Husk’s eternal torture. That, or he just did it to look busy so Charlie wouldn’t give him any extra tasks. Or both.

“Excellent!” Alastor replied, clapping his hands together. The muffled sound of a studio audience cheering fizzled into existence as he waved a hand wide through the air. “You wouldn’t happen to know where our resident reprobate spider has crawled off to this fine afternoon, would you? Charlie would be terribly put-out if he gets squashed on my watch.”

“Why are you askin’ me?” Husk responded, finally setting down the whiskey glass. Alastor just tilted his head and smiled.

“Oh, do remind me if my memory is foggy but you _ are _the face of the front desk, aren’t you?” He asked, leaning to tap a gloved finger against his cheek. Husk slapped at it half-heartedly.

“You know the drill. Since it's before noon I’d give it a 75% chance he’s gunning down that snake asshole with his pyromaniac pal, but there’s always the chance he’s out in the red light district doing-”

“-_ Alright! _ Well I suppose I’d best see if the battle has kicked up at the edge of the pentagram,” Alastor interrupted sharply, rising to his feet and shooting Husk a curling grin. “You know, you may have had a point earlier. Business has been keeping me from my work, perhaps I’d best stretch my creative muscles with a broadcast, hm? It’s been a while since I’ve been able to really _ cut _loose.”

“When you say it like _ that _forget I said anything, you’re fuckin’ creepy,” Husk grimaced, leaning away from the other demon who just closed his eyes and chuckled.

“You should learn to take a compliment, my friend! And perhaps a good show will convince Angel from running off and damaging the hotel’s reputation quite so often,” he said, eyes ever so quickly flickering to dials before returning to normal.

“Don’t tell me you actually care about the hotel’s reputation now?” Husk said, giving him a skeptical look. 

“Of course I do! I am a legitimate business partner, aren’t I? And, just between you and me,” he leaned forward conspiratorially, stage whispering while Husk leaned back, “we can only let Charlie get so downtrodden if she’s to keep up the energy for this fiasco!” His laugh was permeated with the sound of radio channels shuffling quickly.

“Sure, just try not to like, static shock murder the guy-” Husk started, but Alastor was already spinning and walking confidently out the front door. “Well you fuck off too then!” he snapped when Alastor completely dismissed him, grabbing a nearby bottle of whiskey and lifting it to drink straight from the top. 

He blinked when the bottle suddenly moved from his grip, pouring itself neatly into the whiskey glass he had just been cleaning.

“Why thank you Husker dear, how thoughtful,” Alastor called from the doorway as the glass shot over to his hand.He’d stood silhouetted in the door, and had apparently summoned his mic on the way over as he leaned on it as he glanced back. The red light of the outside backlit him, emphasizing his elongated features. He raised the glass towards Husk. “Cheers!”

With another static-filled chuckle followed by a muffled laugh-track, Alastor swept out of the door, taking the whiskey glass with him. Husker raised a hand to gesture angrily at the quickly leaving Radio Demon, but sighed and gave up, moving to a different whiskey glass to polish for the next hour.

“I don’t get paid enough for this shit.”

* * *

As it so happened, the turf war _ had _kicked up at the west edge of the pentagram, but at this point the heated battle was coming to an end. Sir Pentious was likely to flee soon, after a precise explosion to the right jet engine had brought his airship crashing to the ground and destroying a number of his weapons and minions (which he mourned for in that order).

It also so happened that the notorious Angel Dust did indeed happen to be involved, ducking behind the shrapnel of Sir Pentious’ crashed airship. Cherri had just sent an egg into the _ other _ jet engine, and the resulting explosion had wrecked at _ least _ a city block. It was _ awesome _.

Angel peaked up over the ragged piece of metal, smiling ecstatically as Cherri planted another round-house kick on Sir Pent’s pretentious face and sent him reeling over what was left of the console of his airship and sliding across the rough street. 

“Take that you slimy sack of shit!” Angel cackled at the same time Cherri shouted something like “outdated edgelord” before doing a neat backflip and landing by Angel’s right. He raised all four of his arms, which Cherri slapped, first up and then down.

“Thanks for the cover, Angie,” Cherri chirped, setting her hands on her hips and watching the smoke rise from the crashed ship. “That’ll keep him grounded for a while.”

“Anything for you, girl buddy. Livens up my day anyhow, glad I could get in on some fun,” he replied, bumping her with a hip and eyeing up the crashed ship as well.

Neither of them heard as a particular demon manifested behind them. They both stood still, various numbers of hands on their hips, as the grinning shadowy figure rose from the ground behind them. For a moment, its curved grin and narrowed eyes were backlit by an inner red light. Its antlers curved high into the air and it towered over them, arms stretched unnaturally, curving around both of their shoulders with claws extended as if to grasp them. But then it shrunk back down to a normal size and solidified into a more physical form.

“Oh dear, looks like I’ve missed all the entertainment then,” Alastor spoke with a sigh, raising a hand to his cheek. His smile was more akin to the purse of his lips, before stretching out again at the reactions of the other two.

Both Angel and Cherri spun quickly, Cherri with a surprised growl and Angel with a short, high-pitched shriek. He tried to cover it quickly with a cough, raising a lower arm to his mouth to clear his throat into.

“Radio demon,” Cherri hissed, taking a step back and assuming a defensive pose. Alastor just seemed amused, grinning wider and tilting his head inquisitively with a burst of radio interference.

“Jeez, Al what the fuck, wear a bell or something,” Angel coughed into one hand and rested a second on his chest. 

“Miss Cherri Bomb, so good to see you once more. Lovely work this time,” he replied, eyes flickering to the rubble surrounding them and reaching a hand out for a handshake. Cherri glanced down with her one eye, narrowing it as red sigils flickered in the air around the outstretched hand. “No? Oh well.”

He closed the hand, taking the sigils out of existence with the motion.

Cherri loosened her stance only slightly, from an outright aggressive pose to one of tense readiness. 

“Ugh. _ Why _are you even here anyway? I made sure the fight stayed away from the hotel this time,” Angel said, rolling his eyes and crossing both sets of arms. He averted his eyes from the demon, scanning over the rubble again. “Plus this is like, low key,” he said with a mischievous grin, “Charlie can’t even get pissed, there’s no reporters or anything! And you’ll do me a solid and keep my name out of it, right, Cher?”

Cherri was still staring down Alastor, who stared unrelentingly back. He of course had a smile to match her scowl. Angel scoffed and cleared his throat to get the two’s attention.

“Yeah, sure, _ whatever _Angie. Can you just get your smiley homeboy here out of my face?” She shot back, not looking away.

Alastor, unbothered, let his eyes drift away from the hostile woman in front of him only to glance lazily up at the remains of the airship.

“I’d move, darling,” he said, almost bored. He casually folded his arms behind him and stepped neatly to the left, behind the shrapnel Angel was still half hidden behind.

“What’s that supposed to-?” Cherri said, glancing over her shoulder in the direction Alastor had referenced. Her eye widened and she dropped to the ground in a split, before she rolled to the side and behind some nearby destroyed scaffolding.

“Huh?” Angel said, looking over to where Alastor had glanced. His eyes widened and he stumbled backwards behind the shrapnel.

He only just managed to tumble to the ground at Alastor’s feet, out of the way, as a bolt of some kind of red electricity snapped over their heads. 

“I’m going to eradicate you two no class vagrants!” The lisping voice called from the other end of the clearing. “You’ll be nothing more than a smear under my boot!”

“He doesn’t even have feet,” Angel muttered, squinting and rubbing his head where it had collided with the ground. “Really the banter with this guy- it’s- it’s kind of pathetic.” 

He squinted up, catching sight of Alastor’s wide smile and flickering eyes as he began to step out once more.

“Ay! Wait, Al, hold up!” He called as he scrambled on the ground.

Alastor had materialized his microphone in one hand, letting the weight of the base fall against the ground solidly. Angel only just managed to grab onto the leg of his dress pants and tug, causing him to pause. 

The Radio Demon’s smile tightened as his brows came down in a half glare.

“Angel, we’ve been over this, let go,” he drawled, and the corner of his strained smile twitched. He used the end of his microphone to harshly prod at the other demon’s hand on his ankle repeatedly. “Now, if you’d let me take care of this _ little _problem...”

His teeth seemed to sharpen and multiply, and for a moment the dials in his eyes were visible. Then, Angel reached up with another arm and gave a sharp tug on his leg, causing him to stumble slightly and his eyes to normalize. His scowl, on the other hand, deepened.

“No! For fucks sake, Al, let me take care of it! I don’t know why you have to mess with my shit every time this happens, this is like the third time this month!” Angel huffed, slamming one of his free fists on the ground. “Don’t you have your own turf war to take care of or something? Go duke it out with that TV asshole or some shit!”

“Oh _ Alastor! _” Sir Pentious’ voice called out from the rubble, causing one of Alastor’s ears to flick slightly due to his compounding annoyance. 

He raised his foot once more, but Angel just grasped his ankle tight. He briefly considered shocking the other demon off, but it would likely do lasting damage, and Angel would be bemoaning it for the next week. He wouldn’t hear the end of it, which would only cause him further annoyance. His other ear twitched.

“_ Alastor, _ I see you’ve finally realized my adversary-”

“Pontius, was it?” Alastor replied, smiling widely and shooting a look over at the snake, who recoiled and hissed loudly. 

“It’s actually Sir _ Pentious _-” a nearby egg spoke up, cheerfully. Unfortunately for said egg, Ser Pentious lashed out with his tail, sending it flying.

“He _ knows _that! He’s doing it on purpose you idiots!” 

Alastor sighed an overexaggerated sigh, crackling with tense energy. “And here I was hoping to get an interesting broadcast out of this, but unfortunately, I’m afraid my listeners just won’t be satisfied with such small time content. Ah, well, _ c’est la vie _. I’ll have to seek my inspiration somewhere else.”

“Oh! You puffed up, patronizing, half-baked host-” Sir Pentious began, and he pulled back the safety on his gun. It began whirring with red light.

“I’m _ serious _Al,” Angel hissed. 

Oh right, he was talking too, wasn’t he? 

Alastor’s eyes flickered down to the spider as he finally released Alastor’s leg and scrambled to his feet. All his attention was seemingly wrapped up with the Radio Demon, ignoring the separate conversation and instead pointing a finger at Alastor’s chest and crossing his lower arms. “I can handle this myself without you coming in with all your radio bullshit.”

Alastor watched the scene silently, mouth set in a small, polite smile and arms crossed neatly behind his back. His eyes slowly traveled from Sir Pentious’ weapon, getting brighter and brighter, to Angel Dust, prattling on and on. 

He watched, not quite fully listening, as Angel’s mouth continued to spit out nonsense about something or another, not unlike usual. Apparently he was “a competent demon who could handle himself” and “didn’t need Alastor to come in and rescue him.” He looked back to the gun that was now glowing an obvious and obnoxious bright red.

He then glanced directly forward, giving the empty air in front of him a deadpan look and smile as the bright electrical shock of Sir Pent’s weapon crackled into life and raced through the air towards Angel and himself. The attack startled the oblivious Angel, who’s head snapped to look at the incoming attack. A soft laugh track played as Alastor stood still and raised an eyebrow. 

In a burst of showmanship, he rushed into action at the last possible moment.

Angel yelped as Alastor neatly sidestepped the ray of red electricity. As he moved, he grabbed onto the wrist of one of Angel’s lower arms and tugged him out of the way along with him. 

He used the momentum, and spun the spider once, twice, three times, falling easily into the steps of a familiar swing dance as a loud burst of trumpets and saxophones sprung from the air around them. He let Angel get thoroughly dizzy and off-balanced, before throwing the other man out into a deep dip. With the momentum Alastor had built into the movement, Angel had no choice but to follow it. 

Angel dizzily tried to move with the Radio Demon, but he was forced to go flying and winced internally as he felt his body fall towards the ground. He was equally as surprised then, when his descent was stopped short and he found himself hovering above the ground. His head kept spinning when his body stopped, and he blinked his wide mismatched eyes at Alastor, as he leaned in closer, grinning wide. Alastor had one hand around his back supporting his whole weight and keeping him from hitting the ground, and Angel felt the other demon’s claws, sharp and exaggerated, through his gloves.

Angel briefly considered dropping some sort of pick-up line while his world stopped spinning, “mark me down as scared and horny” in particular sprang to the front of his mind, but he didn’t have the chance to deliver it.

“You were saying?” Alastor asked dryly, drawling and giving him an unimpressed look and a condescending smile. Angel opened his mouth to reply, but Alastor suddenly released his grip and let him fall in a heap on the ground with an “oof.” He swore he felt something tug at his ankles to make sure he completely lost his balance and landed flat on his back, but when he looked up, he didn’t notice anything unusual except perhaps a slight wavering at the edge of Alastor’s shadow.

“Now, _ finally _, if you don’t mind,” Alastor hummed, followed by the continued hum of the music notes that began to slowly fade from the air. He reached out and called his microphone staff back to his hand again. 

“Just double-die already you egghead!” A feminine voice (oh there was Cherri) called from Alastor’s right. An explosion rang out through the clearing, and soon enough Sir Pentious and Cherri were bickering once more.

Alastor sighed, smile tightening as he closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples. His good mood from earlier was wearing quite thin. How exactly was he supposed to perform when his audience consisted of two short-tempered simpletons with equally short attention spans? Every time he was about to unleash his power in a show of, well, _ power, _one thing or another would steal the moment from him. 

In fact, if the pattern kept up then, three… two… one…

Angel scrambled to his feet again and began shouting, _ again _, before he quickly side-stepped Alastor and rushed over to Cherri once more. 

It was like a symposium of idiocracy with these fools, he could sense the upbeats and downbeats at this point.

Alastor didn’t even bother to pay attention to the three voices “bantering,” sighing and rubbing at his temples again. Usually the chaotic fiasco that was these lesser turf war scuffles was quality entertainment, but Alastor was taking control of the situation now, and he hated when his things weren’t _ tidy. _

He distantly heard _ Angel and Cherri _bickering now, about something useless, and Sir Pent shout something presumably attempting to be threatening, but only managing to embarrass himself. All the sounds blended together into the static quickly overtaking Alastor’s mind, white noise growing louder and louder in the center of his consciousness. Until he snapped.

Angel had managed to dart past Alastor when the other took a moment to look like he was contemplating all his life and afterlife choices that had lead him to this point. He’d half expected the other demon to grab him as he shot by, but he managed to dash over to Cherri without being stopped.

“Ugh, Angie, help me just _ murder _this asshole already, would ya?” Cherri snapped, glaring at him. He scoffed, raising a hand to his chest.

“Hey, don’t bitch at _ me _ babe, maybe if _ you _had made sure he was down for good the first time-”

“Yeah, well, _ your _strawberry fucker over there threw off my groove, alright? Next time maybe you’ll figure your shit out before fucking up my battle. If you need your cannibal boy toy to babysit you-”

“What the hell Cherri?! Shut the _ fuck- _”

Angel was distracted as Sir Pentious began his monologuing once more.

“Ooh, you’ll see now _ Alastor! _ You’ll learn to not underestimate me! With my genius mind and the cooperation of my allies, I’ve got _ just _the thing to put you down, once and for all!”

“Oh _ fuck off!” _ Cherri shouted at the snake demon, raising a hand to give him the finger. “ _ We _were fighting so get over your weird ass crush and get back here so I can beat your ass!”

“I was _ not _talking to you,” Sir Pentious snapped, turning back to Cherri.

Angel darted a look over to Alastor, who was only now stepping out once more and raising his microphone staff. His eyes were dials, smile unnaturally raised at the edges of his face, and his horns began to extend upwards. His limbs elongated as energy buzzed around him, located primarily at the tip of his microphone.

“Alright,” he said sharply, radio needle flicking back and forth across his irises. “Enough of this.”

He raised his microphone and walked into the clearing once more, red energy crackling around him. He only barely contained the urge to vaporize the whole clearing and everyone in it. _ Barely _. 

Sigils formed around him as he pointed his staff towards Sir Pentious, eyes round and smile stained red from ancient blood.

“Uh, boss?” One of the egg minions said, tugging on Sir Pentious’ coat and pointing at the Radio Demon. 

“_ What! _” He hissed, turning to the egg and following the gesture. His squinted scowl quickly rounded out into one of panic as he spotted the Radio Demon’s approach. “Oh shi-”

Black flames shot towards Sir Pentious, causing him to duck and fall to the ground. He scrambled across the ground to hide behind the dashboard of his fallen ship. 

Unbeknownst to the others in the fight, this gave him the perfect opportunity to scramble for a seperate weapon he had hidden beneath his dashboard for just this occurrence. He located it quickly, grinning wildly and immediately pulling back the safety. 

The Radio Demon, voice almost completely overpowered by the sound of static and growling, seemed to be humming something through the distorted sound. Fragments splintered out as he grinned wider and twirled his microphone again. “_ Red against yellow... kill a fellow _.”

Sir Pentious peaked over the dashboard and aimed carefully, gun whirring to life. 

“Aw hell, Angel! Why do you keep getting this crazy mo-fo involved-” 

“I told ya, _ I _didn’t ask, but hey, guess you won’t have to worry anymore-”

Cherri and Angel were both currently ducked behind the crumbling foundation of a nearby building, watching Alastor’s approach. Cherri, with a mixture of annoyance and resignation. Angel, pouting, but interested in how exactly Sir Pent was going to get torn a new one now that it was inevitable. He leaned over the half-crumbled wall and propped up an elbow and rested his cheek on his hand.

“You see, there’s a difference between us, _ Alastor! _” Sir Pentious shouted over the bickering of the two and static sound filling the air, attempting to get a word of his monologue in edgewise. Funnily enough, the Radio Demon did indeed pause and chuckle out a monstrous sound. Unfortunately, the other two did not give him the same respect.

“Oh _ shut it _dipshit,” Cherri snapped from across the field.

“Yeah, what she said,” Angel agreed, rolling his eyes.

“The _ difference- _ !” Sir Pentious cut back in. “-being that _ I _can adapt! Yes, perhaps you defeated me before-”

“Like, a lot,” Angel commented, glancing at his nails.

“Yeah, I saw a couple, it was pretty brutal,” Cherri agreed, finally chuckling.

“_ -and _perhaps I’ll be forced to retreat again-”

“That, or he’s gonna eat you,” Angel said, waggling his eyebrows and smirking at him.

“Oh yeah, you’re totally dead,” Cherri agreed.

“_ -but _ I’ll return stronger! And with better ammunition! And better _ allies! _And- oh shit-”

He broke off his monologue as another inferno raced towards him, causing him to shoot his now charged gun wildly. The Radio Demon didn’t even have to move for the ball of energy it released to miss him by a good three feet. 

“Ha! Missed!” Angel called out, pointing at the demon as flames rocketed towards him. “Take that! Maybe Al showing up wasn’t so bad, huh babe?”

“I guess,” Cherri responded, pursing and shrugging, but she smiled wickedly as they heard Sir Pentious scream.

“But boss, isn’t it-” an egg spoke up.

“_ Shht- _ ” Sir Pentious responded from where he had ducked, smacking at the egg. “Oh dear, what _ ever _ shall I do now?”

Angel’s mocking laughter faltered, Sir Pentious was a horrible actor after all. He only now realized the other demon was holding a new weapon. It looked sleeker than his usual over-the-top villain gizmos. He squinted as he glanced back over to Alastor. 

Then his eyes widened.

“Ay! Al, watch out!” Angel shouted, straightening suddenly and hurrying around the shelter of the wall towards the fight. He watched as the energy that had blasted past, seemed to pivot and hone in on the Radio Demon. He stepped forward a single step, arms outstretched, as if to intervene or push the other out of the way, but he was nowhere near close enough. So he watched as the energy boomeranged and collided into the tip of the Radio Demon’s microphone from behind.

Oddly enough, the microphone just seemed to absorb the energy whole, growing brighter and sparking with even more vibrancy.

Alastor paused, glancing over to his staff, before turning back to Sir Pentious and chuckling a distorted laugh again.

“And what, exactly, was the use of that?” he asked, voice crackling. He took a single menacing step towards the dashboard.

Sir Pentious watched, eyes wide, expression expectant.

Nothing happened.

“_ Fuck! _” 

Sigils formed around Alastor’s microphone and shot more energy his way, causing him to duck again.

“But boss, don’t you have to-”

“_ Silence! _” 

Sir Pentious darted out of the way once more, and the two demons began a cat and mouse chase around what was left of Sir Pentious’ ship. 

Angel leaned back on the crumbling wall again, letting out a sigh as he watched Alastor’s distorted form torment the shrieking Sir Pentious.

“Wow, you almost looked concerned there for a sec, Angie,” Cherri commented, leaning forward on the wall from the shelter of the other side. 

“Well, close call, right?” Angel responded, watching as Sir Pentious’ coat caught on fire and he began furiously trying to pat it out while still fleeing Alastor.

“Whatever you say,” Cherri said, giving him an odd look. “It’d be better for _ us _ if they both just offed each other, but if you’re _ really _attached to the whole hotel sitch then I guess it’s better Mister Twizzler sticks around. Just try not to get eaten, I guess.”

“Aww, now look who’s concerned,” Angel teased, punching her playfully.

“I’m not concerned, I just don’t have anyone to party with if you croak,” she responded, punching him back twice as hard. He winced.

This lovely bonding happened to the backdrop of pained screeching, as most bonding in Hell seemed to. 

On the other side of the field, the dark flames had finally engulfed Sir Pentious’ left side, sending his clothing up in smoke and filling the air with the rancid smell of burning flesh. Alastor laughed a horrible, twisted laugh, radio dials ticking back and forth as the air filled with microphone feedback.

“Why isn’t-” Sir Pent’s choked out a wheezing cough. His watery eyes lifted to glance at the Radio Demon. There, the air around his microphone was growing more and more bright and abuzz with red electricity. “...Oh! _ Oh! _” 

With the last of his energy, he dashed across the field, throwing several eggs in the line of fire in order to draw more attacks from the opposing demon. The two made their way back towards the crumbling building, before a high pitched whirring began to slowly build in the air.

Sir Pentious laughed loudly, before it turned into a wracked cough.

The Radio Demon sent another attack of shadowy flames his way, and he only just managed to dodge it, managing to duck behind the same wall that Cherri Bomb and Angel Dust currently occupied, taking the two demons by surprise.

“Hey, what the hell do you think _ you're _doing?” She asked, tensing. 

The high pitched ringing continued to escalate. It sounded like a tea kettle screaming and letting off steam, or the buzzing of a live wire.

The smoking pile that was Sir Pentious lying curled on the ground behind the wall just laughed maniacally. 

“Got him!” Sir Pentious coughed and wheezed, clutching his mangled side. Despite his blatant mutilation, a wide smile crossed his face. Angel tensed while Cherri pinned the other demon down with one foot to the neck. He looked back out at where Alastor stood nearby, still following the other.

He appeared to have heard the garbled words of Sir Pentious, pausing. 

The Radio Demon’s smile didn’t fade, he didn’t even tilt his head inquisitively. He made sure to show no outward signs of confusion or weakness despite the odd behavior.

“Hey, uh, what exactly is that supposed to mean, you’re looking pretty shitty to me, man,” Angel began to say, but stopped when he heard the high pitched ringing. It just seemed to get higher and higher, until Angel had to reach up and cover his ears. Sir Pentious’ wracked laughter was the only thing that broke through the odd sound.

“Ha, ha,” he wheezed, “_ got him! _”

Angel’s eyes were drawn to the microphone, getting brighter and brighter. The very air around it seemed to be blurred with an intense red static image, and strange red sigils flickered in and out of existence in front of it in an unintelligible flash of red light. It crackled with red electricity, and then it _ cracked. _

“Uh, _ Al _, is your mic supposed to do that?” Angel’s nervous voice called out. 

Alastor turned, eyes momentarily flickering back to normal pupils as his focus narrowed on the staff in his right hand. His normal control returned to himself for only one moment, power flickering down to a simmer. 

His eyes widened as he saw the way the microphone crackled and buzzed with a dangerous excess of energy, he moved to drop it, smile faltering for only a second, before the top of the staff exploded into light and shrapnel. 

* * *

Angel quickly tried to duck away from the explosion, but due to his position in front of the wall, he felt the red electricity hit him like a truck and throw him against the wall, tearing all the breath from his chest. For a moment, his world was a burning mass of light and heat. Then for another moment, it was black and nothing.

He had the consciousness to be concerned that he might have just double-died, before his sight slowly returned to him. His hearing, on the other hand, was still caput. His ears rung, and he could only hear muffled sounds.

Raising two hands to block out the blinding bright light of the world, he tried to weakly stand up and get his wobbly legs underneath him.

It only lasted a moment before the light faded again, like a lingering after exposure. The high pitched screech faded out, leaving only the pained coughs and muffled laughs of Sir Pentious hanging in the air.

“How,” he spat, “do you,” a rough breath, “like _ that! _” 

It took a few seconds for Angel to spot Alastor and stumble forward.

Alastor stood completely still in the middle of a (definitely new) crater in the ground. He seemed frozen in the same pose as before, left hand raised in front of his face and the other extended, holding the splintered remains of his cane. He stood rigidly in place.

Angel shot a look to Sir Pentious, who seemed to feel the weight of his gaze. He locked eyes with Angel and hissed a chuckle through a pained smile. Despite the fact the Radio Demon was still standing, the snake appeared pleased.

Angel broke eye contact and turned to slowly approach Alastor. He heard Cherri say something about taking care of Sir Pentious, but it seemed unimportant at the moment.

“Al? Alastor?” He asked carefully, stopping at the top of the crater and breathing heavily. There still seemed to be a terrible weight on his chest constricting his breathing. He very well may have cracked some ribs, but Alastor still wasn’t moving. “Say something buddy.”

From the looks of it, he had just managed to raise a hand to block the majority of the metal and glass shards of the explosion from piercing his face. His left palm, still hovering in front of his cheek, was a flesh _ pincushion _. Dark blood seeped from the wounds and right through his glove. Some of the shrapnel even appeared to be piercing out through the back of his hand. 

Angel hissed a breath in sympathy.

“Al?” He tried again, coughing slightly, and taking a tentative step into the crater. He slipped down the side almost immediately losing his footing despite digging his heels into the side.

As he got closer, he saw more details of Alastor’s face. It appeared a few pieces of shrapnel had missed his palm, leaving deep cuts on his right cheek. One piece of red glass was embedded directly above the corner of his frozen smile, causing his own blood to pour down his cheek and drip down his neck. 

Furthermore, his eyes were radio dials, and the needles were in motion. They were, in fact, the _ only _ thing in motion on his person. The needles were whizzing counter clockwise around his irises at an alarming rate, spinning back and back and _ back _. They showed no signs of stopping their rotations, round and round.

“You still in there pal? Need a jumpstart? Should I crack a sex joke so you have to flee the area?” He asked, stepping closer. Nothing.

“_ Please _ just move or something, you’re really worrying me here babe and I do _ not _appreciate it,” he continued. As he stepped within five feet, a spark suddenly lit up at the corner of Alastor’s right eye. “Uh, is that good or bad?”

His voice almost whined by the end. He took another step, and felt the ends of his fluff stand on edge as static electricity seemed to fill the air. With each step closer, he watched as the dials in Alastor’s eyes slowed.

“I’ll take that as good?” Angel responded, finally reaching the other demon. He reached out gingerly to prod at his raised arm.

The moment his hand made contact, a static shock of electricity ran through him. Red sparks danced over his wrist and traveled up his arm before flickering out.

“Ouch! What the hell!” Angel hissed, pulling his arm back and shaking it.

The dials in Alastor’s eyes paused, ticking back and forth for a moment, before beginning to spin clockwise slowly. 

The arm hovering in front of his face suddenly dropped to his side, and the hand gripping the smoldering splinter of what used to be a microphone released it, letting the last fragment fall to the ground.

“Oh good,” Angel sighed, some tension leaving him. “I thought you-”

He stopped as Alastor suddenly collapsed to the ground.

“-oh _ shit! _”

He rushed forward to grab him, but not fast enough to stop Alastor’s head from colliding loudly with the ground. It sounded painful, and Angel winced as he finally reached him.

Alastor the Radio Demon was lying face down, unconscious or double-dead in a crater, that probably wasn’t good. Scratch that, that _ really _wasn’t good.

Angel knelt down to slowly turn over the demon. It was easier than he expected. Despite his height, the other demon was surprisingly lightweight. His eyes were closed, and a quiet static sound emanating from him. 

Maybe that was a good sign? If he was double-dead, he’d be silent, right?

He wasn’t smiling though. Apparently not even Alastor could keep up a smile while unconscious.

“Al. _ Al. _Now’s really not the time to be taking a nap buddy,” he hissed, shaking the other demon’s shoulder gently and glancing back up to the top of the crater. Other demons would be arriving soon to see what had caused the wreckage and subsequent explosion. If they found such a powerful demon in a weak position, it wouldn’t be good. 

That wasn’t even considering the _ news _copter soon to be there.

He wrapped his arms around Alastor and attempted to pull him up. He fumbled for a moment, and just ended up pulling the man’s head and shoulders onto his lap. He grimaced at the glass cuts, and the fresh blood seeping from where the right corner of his forehead had just collided with the ground. He’d never seen Alastor bleed before, and not from such a slight thing as hitting his head.

“Oh shit, oh shit,” he muttered, glancing around. He heard the faint sound of a news helicopter approaching. “_ Please _ wake up. _ Please _don’t be dead.”

As if prompted, Alastor’s eyelids fluttered. Angel Dust let out a gasp and gently shook the other again.

“Al,” he muttered the one word over and over as the other demon slowly opened his eyes. “Can you stop freaking me out and just wake up, huh?” He tried to joke. “Asshole.”

Once Alastor’s eyes opened completely, Angel could see they were no longer radio dials. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but he decided to call it a win because it meant the other was less likely to eat him upon waking up in such a bad state.

“Hey hot stuff, glad to see you joining the world of the dead again,” he said, “now, uh, think you can stand up?”

Alastor’s eyes traveled over to Angel’s face. He gave Alastor his best smile, channeling the spirit of the grinning demon himself. 

Oddly enough, Alastor didn’t smile back. His brows furrowed and he opened his mouth to speak.

Angel nearly jumped at the jumble of radio nonsense that came out. It was like the channel of a radio shuffling through a million stations at once with no guiding force to coalesce the sound into a single word or sentence. Fragments of words rang out, but they were quickly overpowered by other sounds.

He almost dropped Alastor’s head back onto the ground, but restrained himself. He heard the copter get closer.

“Uh, can you try that again? And you sure you can’t get up?” He asked, edge of panic in his voice.

Alastor tilted his head, and hissed at the apparent pain. For the first time, Angel saw the other demon frown and grimace. It was… strange. And terrifying. 

He opened his mouth to speak again. This time wasn’t as bad, but still the sound of radio distress and the whirring of changing channels overpowered any coherent words.

“Okay, okay. This is fine,” Angel said. He used one hand to wipe at his bangs which had begun to clump in his face from the dust and debris and the fight. “We’ll just- uh-”

Alastor frowned again, and wasn’t that an awful sight, but he reached behind him to begin to prop himself up on one arm. “Oh, you’re getting up?” Angel asked, nervous smile breaking across his face. 

The other demon hissed as his shrapnel impaled hand touched the ground, bringing it back to clutch at his chest. 

“Oh fuck, yeah, don’t use that one,” Angel said, biting at his lower lip.

More static filled syllables came from Alastor’s mouth, twisted into a grimace. Only this time, fragments of words seemed to struggle to escape. 

“Ye—tr—in—to—d—if—y—co—_ help _,” the last word escaped in a hiss, finally jolting Angel into movement. 

“Oh, yeah! Fuck, sorry!” He exclaimed, reaching with three arms to help the other stand up while using the fourth to struggle to his feet himself.

Alastor stood finally, clutching his left hand to his chest and squinting at the surrounding area.

“Wha—happ—” stuttered out of the sound of feedback.

“Sir Pentious zapped your microphone with some bullshit and destroyed it, but you got him good, _ promise _ , don’t worry. But we _ really _ have to get back to the hotel. _ Now, _” Angel said in a rush, pushing at Alastor’s back to help him stumble up the crater wall.

In another strange turn, Alastor dug his heels into the ground, refusing to move as he continued to scan his surroundings with a furrowed brow and frown.

“One—mo—nt—” he responded.

“No we _ really gotta _-”

“Give—e _ one _—oment-” the other hissed, giving Angel a strange look. 

Angel froze, before relenting and nodding, eyes scanning nervously across the clearing. He kept his hands tightly gripping onto Alastor’s arms, and oddly enough the other demon didn’t say anything about the touch, apparently too knocked off-kilter. 

His eyes flickered to Alastor’s frown again, grimacing himself to match it.

“Heh, I know it’s been a rough ten minutes, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I like your creepy ass smiles better than whatever your face is doing now. You sure you’re okay there?”

Angel nearly facepalmed at the words that spilled from his mouth. He might, if he had an extra arm that wasn’t trying to push Alastor out of the scene of destruction. But manifesting one of the other two hidden ones seemed like a long way to go for the gesture, so he stopped himself.

Alastor gave Angel a confused look, before a wobbly, crooked smile stretched across his features. Angel winced. It was even stranger than normal with how awkward and forced it seemed, paired with the other demon’s seemingly confused look, but he took it over the snarl or grimace from earlier.

“See! Picture perfect! What a stunner! Now is your ‘one moment’ done because I think Katie Killjoy’s copter is here and Charlie _ will _ actually kill us if we’re on the news again. So, and I repeat, _ hotel now _,” Angel rambled as he pushed on Alastor’s back again.

“Wh—hotel—Charl—is—exact—” Alastor tried to say, smile twitching, but Angel quickly aimed him away from the clearing and hurried his steps.

“See ya’ Cherri!” He called over his shoulder. “Don’t die!”

Cherri called something back, something about Pentious and his eggs escaping. Angel didn’t pay much attention. 

Alastor snapped his mouth closed and glared, but kept his smile in place this time. He was strangely pliant as Angel angled him down one street and then another. Angel wasn’t sure whether that was a good sign, or a very, very, bad one.

However, after the first corner, Alastor repositioned the two of them. Instead of letting Angel push him, he linked his arm through Angel’s and leaned the weight of his bad side ever so slightly on the other. With the altered posture, it was almost as if the two were just strolling down the block, bringing far less attention to them. It was a tactical move, Angel was sure, but his throat still tightened. It was odd for Alastor to be so willing to follow Angel’s lead, and _ far _more unlikely for him to allow any sort of extended touch from Angel. He must really be hurt.

And Angel hated feeling guilty, damn this hotel and everything it stood for.

Well maybe when he got back, Charlie would take care of that pesky feeling and murder him, because he perked up as he heard the sound of news copter swooping neaby. 

“Aw shit,” he cursed, ducking his head and trying to shield his face from the thing. Usually he wouldn’t give two shits, but Charlie had been _ very _ upset last time he was caught on camera, so he’d been doing his best to avoid the bad publicity. It would be better to just… not do the things that _ got _bad publicity, but hey, at least he was taking a step in the right direction or whatever it was Charlie was always saying.

“—problem?” Alastor’s shitty radio channels spat out. He looked down at the half-hunched Angel and tilted his head curiously.

“This day keeps getting better, huh?”

* * *

“-remember to avoid the M25 orbital highway through the inter pentagram this afternoon! There’s a 13 car pile up collision and the carnage isn’t getting cleaned up anytime soon!”

Katie Killjoy’s voice fizzled over the television in Charlie’s limo, which corrected itself accordingly, as Charlie herself kicked her feet up and gave a cheer.

“That went so well!” Charlie exclaimed, giving Vaggie an excited squeeze, too full of excited energy. “That’s another new resident! I’m sure she’ll fit right in!”

Vaggie huffed in amusement before returning the hug. 

“Yeah, and her ‘issue areas’ are pretty minimum, unlike _ some _of them. Just some small anger issues and drug use, and she seems pretty open-”

“Exactly! Ah, I’m so excited!” Charlie cheered, finally releasing Vaggie and leaning back. “Oh this is perfect. We’ll sweep by and pick her up on the way home- after we go get _ dinner- _the day just keeps getting better!”

“I’m happy for you,” Vaggie said, resting a hand lightly on Charlie's arm as Charlie tapped her feet against the floor in a burst of manic energy. “Another step in the right direction.”

“Oh nothing could ruin this day-” Charlie started.

“This just in- more breaking news to ruin someone’s day!” Killjoy’s voice suddenly burst out of the speakers of the limo. 

“Ugh, do we have to have her on? Can we change the-” Charlie began, but the news channel continued and she stopped short.

“Trouble in paradise yet again? Our reporters have picked up an extra special scoop on the destruction down at the west side of the pentagram! What appeared to be a normal turf war turned _ subatomic _ not five minutes ago as some sort of bomb appeared to go off at the inner corner! Spotted fleeing the scene of the crime, which devastated an entire city block and incernerated several citizens _ stupid enough _ to leave their houses to watch the ongoing fight, was turf war regular Sir Pentious! 

“While the hot, rising star Cherri Bomb laid claim to the waste-” Tom Trench cut in, only to be overshadowed by Katie Killjoy’s gleeful voice.

“_ Oh but _that’s not all folks!” She exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

“Oohhh no,” Charlie bemoaned, grimacing and raising a hand to her face, as Katie’s smile widened and a video appeared in the corner of the screen. There was Sir Pentious fleeing with the aid of his minions, clearly injured, and Cherri Bomb standing proudly at the edge of a destroyed city block. 

“It appears two other contenders were none other than ‘adult film star’ Angel Dust and the _ infamous _ Radio Demon, the most influential resident and the _ only _ sponsor of this station’s _ favorite _ongoing trainwreck, the ‘Happy Hotel!’”

“I _ knew _it!” Vaggie shouted, tensing up and straightening. “I’m going to kill him! I’m gonna kill him!”

“Which one?” Charlie sighed, sinking down into her seat and covering her face. 

“Tom? Let’s cut to the live footage, shall we?” Katie said.

The entire screen switched to a camera focusing in on retreating figures of Alastor and Angel. From the looks of it, Angel was turning away and leaning down to try and cover his face, but it was no use. Alastor, on the other hand, looked directly up at the hovering camera with wide eyes and a wide smile, blinking once before glancing back down at Angel.

“Hey! Buzz off assholes!” Angel’s voice rang out, giving the nearing camera the finger. “Uhh, no comment or whatever!”

The sharp sound of microphone feedback rang through the studio for a moment, causing both Katie and Tom to flinch. It cut back out almost immediately and Katie made a gesture to someone behind the camera. The footage kept playing.

“I said stop it! Buzz off! Stop filming!” Angel shouted at the camera again as it grew even closer. Alastor tilted his head and looked back up to the camera. “Leave us alone!”

The sound of microphone feedback suddenly screeched through the news station again, and this time it didn’t end.

Both Katie and Tom ducked their heads, holding their hands to their ears as the sound rang out.

“Hey! Can we fix that! What do we pay you IT idiots for!” Katie snapped as it rang out. The sound just kept getting louder and louder. The footage, still live in the corner, took an unexpected turn.

Suddenly, the camera came crashing to the ground. The visuals coming through blurred and filled with static, and the sound of someone shouting or screaming filtered through the ringing noise. The last thing visible through the camera was a cracked lense looking up at the two demons. Angel looked stiff and was looking at Alastor, who himself looked mildly surprised.

“Oh—did I—that?” broke through the blaring sound, before the footage turned to black.

Likewise, at that moment, the station quickly aired a “technical difficulties” warning and flickered off.

“What the _ fuck _ was that!” Vaggie snarled. “We need to get back, _ now! _”

“I know,” Charlie sighed, slumping down even farther onto the floor of the limo. “I guess we’ll just have to tell Priscilla we’ll come back and pick her up tomorrow?” 

“If she even still wants to come after she sees the news!” 

“Oh, yeah, you’re probably right,” Charlie sighed, glancing down. 

Vaggie opened her mouth to continue her tirade, but upon seeing Charlie’s face, she froze and glanced down. 

“I- look-” she started, before pulling at her hair briefly and taking a deep breath. “It’s probably fine. We just need to get back and see what the hell’s going on back home, okay?”

Charlie glanced up, hopeful.

“Yeah, you’re right. Uh, Dazzle, can you go tell Priscilla we’ll meet her tomorrow and stay with her to reassure her? Razzle, can we book it to the hotel? The faster we get there the faster we can start clean-up.”

Briefly, the window to the front of the limo turned transparent. The goat in question let out a brief bleat, before stepping out of the car. The other turned and gave Charlie a thumbs up, before the car took off at top speed.

Both Vaggie and Charlie were forced back against the seat of the car, as the goat in the front seat grinned maniacally and took them flying down the road at comical speed.

“Why are we letting the _ goat _drive, again?” Vaggie shouted, gritting her teeth and gripping the seat cushion as they took a particularly harsh corner.

Charlie just grinned nervously and shrugged.

* * *

The walk back to the hotel was dismal. Angel’s chest still hurt, and his breathing (while it was evening out) was still a struggle. 

Alastor, on the other hand, showed no outward signs of being fatigued. If Angel hadn’t been in step with him and their arms hadn’t been locked, he’d have no idea that the other demon was injured at all. But the subtle weight leaned on him, and the way his right hand was tucked into the lining of his coat was a dead giveaway for Angel.

It took longer to walk back to the hotel than it would have been for Alastor to teleport, but he must not have had enough strength. Alastor refrained from trying to speak again, save for the incident with the news reporter.

Who, Angel was sure, was definitely, probably, maybe fine.

The burst of red static that had surged from Alastor directly into the camera had been a surprise- to both Angel _ and _Alastor apparently. So had been the camera beginning to burn red hot, screeching, and exploding just a moment later.

His eyes had briefly returned to dials during the incident, and the garbled nature of his voice had gotten even worse, before Angel tugged him away and he seemed to return to himself.

Alastor’s cheeky “Oh dear, did I do that?” may have sounded sarcastic, but Angel had seen the way his expression opened slightly and his brows furrowed. It had seemed like genuine confusion.

Then again, you never know with Al, he was always faking not understanding how to do things if he wanted to get out of them. Or feigning obliviousness on topics he didn’t want to discuss, usually preceded by him fleeing the room the minute he became uncomfortable, _ always _when Angel caused it himself. 

Either way, after a strenuous walk, during which Angel was wheezin like an asthmatic and struggling to drag his way back, and Alastor was doing an infuriatingly good job of _ not _limping, Angel was throwing the front door open and ushering Alastor inside.

He froze in the action as he spotted Charlie, Vaggie, and Husk standing around the front desk, and no other demons to be seen. They all must have cleared out. And Vaggie looked _ angry. _

Damn, he’d thought Charlie and Vaggie had been out for the day. Just another thing going wrong it seemed.

“There you are!” Vaggie shouted, spinning and narrowing her one eye on Angel and Alastor. 

Angel grimaced and winced. He moved slightly so he was half hiding behind Alastor, who just smiled and glanced back and forth between the trio clustered by the front desk and the spider linked in his arm. Vaggie’s voice raised and Angel ducked further behind him, grinning nervously at the approaching woman. 

A small radio static chirp seemed to come from the radio demon’s throat, almost an inquisitive noise Angel would say. 

“Uhh, hey to you to Vaggie- girl buddy- how was the da-”

“What were you thinking! You got mixed up in a turf war _ again _! We had an important interview!” Vaggie fumed, beginning to take a few threatening stomps in the duos direction.

Alastor watched the movement. He tilted his head and looked back towards Angel. He made that same electrical chirp again, as Angel peeked out from behind him, and glanced back at Vaggie.

“Look I can explain-” Angel started.

The menace radiating off Vaggie was like a physical force heading towards Angel and Alastor, and his grin tightened. He was still using Angel to steady himself, but with a nudge, he pushed Angel ever so slightly farther behind him before turning to Vaggie. 

Angel let himself be nudged, forcing their arms to disconnect, and raising an eyebrow at the deer demon.

Alastor straightened out his posture, shifting his balance onto both of his own feet and tugging at the lapels of his coat with both hands, apparently ignoring the sharpnel still poking out of one. 

He spoke up, and Angel was relieved to hear his voice had mostly returned to him. It still faded in and out, like the volume knob was being constantly cranked up and down, but at least all the sounds were actual words now.

“I think there’s some confusion here, dear. Now let’s talk this through,” he began, voice wavering and wobbling. 

“And _ you! _ ” Vaggie centered her attention on the radio demon, who raised a hand to his chest as if to say “who, _ me? _” 

It just so happened to be the pincushion hand, drawing attention to the wounds. 

“What-”

Vaggie seemed to stumble, finally seeing the blood on Alastor and squinting her eye. Charlie and Husk finally managed to catch up to the fuming woman, Charlie smiling nervously and glancing back and forth between Vaggie, Alastor, and Angel, while Husk just squinted at Alastor and scratched the side of his head with one claw.

“And you too! What happened?” She asked. “We _ saw _the news. I knew we couldn’t trust you with the hotel!”

“Vaggie!” Charlie interrupted nervously, raising her hands in an appealing manner. “We still don’t know what happened, uh, exactly. Can you tell us, Alastor?”

She gave the deer demon an encouraging look.

Alastor blinked for a moment, before his eyes widened an almost imperceptible degree. Angel was sure he was the only one who noticed. 

At that moment, Angel felt the weight on his chest increase slightly, and he began to cough, attempting to push it off. Alastor turned to look at him.

And there, that was yet another odd mannerism. That, and the fact that Alastor’s good hand had come up to hover in Angel’s direction, _ and _ that he didn’t immediately throw him to the dogs and let him take the brunt of Vaggie’s wrath. The weight lifted after a moment of coughing.

Angel’s eyes narrowed at the deer demon as well as the rest of the group, also waiting for an explanation. 

“Oh? Ah, me?” Alastor finally replied, turning back to Charlie, Vaggie, and Husk once Angel stopped coughing.

“Yes _ you- _” Vaggie snapped, but was cut off. 

“Yes, what happened?” Charlie asked. “Care to explain?”

“Well. Yes. Of course,” he began, fixing his smile in place and puffing up his chest.

* * *

Alastor was playing off his cuff and he was confused as _ Hell _doing it. 

When his eyes had flickered open in the crater, he’d attempted to recollect his memory of current events and just _ why _his hand and head hurt so much, only to find an empty void where his thoughts and memories should be. 

He remembered his name was Alastor, that was a good start.

He was pretty sure he lived in New Orleans, except... nothing looked quite like New Orleans. 

Then he remembered he was dead, which explained why nothing quite looked like New Orleans.

If he tried to recall anything further though, his mind drew up a blank. In fact, the more he tried to recall, the _ more _he seemed to lose. One moment he remembered he was in Hell, and then it fluttered away again and he was wondering why the French Quarter looked so bloodsoaked and why the sky was quite that shade of red. 

On the walk back to wherever this “hotel” it had gotten even worse. Some unfortunate incident with the paparazzi had gone down. At first, he’d just seen how his strange campatriot had reacted to the cameraman and felt a strange pull of emotion and power. Before he knew it, some strange electricity had raced from him to the camera. The man’s machinery must have had some sort of malfunction then, because it shattered before their very eyes!

Then, oddly enough, he couldn’t remember the next few minutes. Suddenly his strange companion and him were a street away and looking for this “hotel” again.

He was able to stabilize his mind, if only marginally after that. If it let the information dangle at the corner of his mind, if he didn’t on it_ focus _, then he could function.

But he still had no idea who exactly this young man who looked- well who looked like a _ spider- _who he was or why he was taking him to some other strange man named Charlie. 

The only clues he had to act on were flashes of general emotion, or at least that’s what he supposed they were. He wasn’t quite sure. 

When he had opened his eyes to see the strange _ spider person _, he’d been immediately overwashed with a sense of frustration and annoyance, but it had been tempered with something else. Another emotion he couldn’t quite pin. 

The problem was, he never really had been good at understanding the friendlier emotions, so he simply filed it away for future analysis. 

They must have been companions of some kind though. Typically, he wouldn’t withstand the company of someone who inspired such frustrations in him, yet here he was. There must have been some bond between them that caused him to refrain from wanting to hunt down the other man (_ spider? _) for sport despite the negative emotions. 

So he made sure to act reserved despite the confusion. 

Furthermore, they must be friendly, what with the way the other person (_ spider? man? and what was with that outfit he had on? _ ) kept smiling and _ touching _him. Alastor bristled at the contact at first, but played it cool. Perhaps that was normal as well? 

And then there was that comment about his smile? So he plastered on a smile and tried to absorb as much information as possible as the spider rambled on and lead him to this mystery hotel.

Upon entering, he’d seen three other strange sights that made him question his reality. At least the two dames seemed normal enough despite their odd coloration and strange outfits, but the other thing seemed to be a flying cat. An actual, person sized cat with wings. Perhaps he’d hit his head harder than he’d thought.

Except, oh right, this was _ Hell _. Why did he keep forgetting this was Hell? Did that explain it? Were there many cats in Hell?

The spider had called the gray woman “Vaggie.” Did that make the cat “Charlie?” Where was “Charlie?” Was the cat even male or female or something entirely else? He simply didn’t have enough information. 

And then the other dame was asking him to explain himself. Well, he still would have very much liked an explanation himself! But they were all looking expectantly at him.

He’d just have to play it by ear. What had the spider said earlier?

“Well. Yes. Of course,” he started, putting on his performance persona to fully capture the attention of his target audience.

“There was an incident with Sir Pentious,” Alastor explained, tilting his head and giving the woman in the tux his best charming smile. He realized it hurt, due to something sharp sticking out of his cheek. When had that happened? “My, ah, _ microphone _was destroyed, but it’s all under control now-”

“_ Under control? _ You call destroying a city block and getting caught on camera _ under control _? This is just like the first time! This is why we can’t trust either of you! If it were up to me-”

“Vaggie, please,” the other woman interrupted again, placing a soft hand on “Vaggie’s” shoulder. Alastor’s eyes followed the gesture and he raised an eyebrow. He glanced backwards to where the spider’s hands were hovering near his own arms. He appeared ready to steady him should he falter. Hm.

“Listen,” the spider spoke up again, peeking out from behind Alastor’s back. “It was my fault, I admit it. I was being a shithead. Al was just coming to pick me up and drag me back here. He was doin’ his job, don’t tear his head off,” Vaggie spun to look at him, “but don’t tear my head off either! What I was getting at was I think you should lay off! We both got pretty banged up because of it, so, uh, sorry?”

The last bit was half unsure, half defensive, and he shot a look at Alastor after he finished. “Which, by the way, you good, Al?”

His smile tightened as he glanced around at the other three in the room. After a quick moment of calculation, he decided that while he had shown a moment of weakness by leaning on the spider earlier in the street, there was absolutely no room for such a show in front of these other three strangers. Especially not faced with such hostility.

“Oh, no,” he responded to the spider cheerfully, shaking his head and closing his eyes, “no, no, no. I’m right as range.”

To emphasize his point, he reached up and wrenched the largest shard of glass from his cheek. He contained the hiss of pain he felt bubble up within him, completing the action in complete silence, and refused to break his smile. 

He understood what the spider had meant now, keeping the smile really _ was _a powerful move. 

With a flick of his wrist, he sent the bloody piece of glass skittering across the ground. It slid on the hardwood and collided with the wall.

“I’ll just need a moment to clean myself up, is all,” he quirked his head and nodded.

Vaggie scoffed, crossing her arms. The spider also seemed unconvinced, eyes flickering from the shard of glass to Alastor. He turned to catch the spider’s eye, shooting him a conspiratorial wink before turning back to the hostile trio in front of them. 

He didn’t catch the utterly confused look the other shot at him before he turned away.

“I don’t know,” it was the other woman who finally spoke up. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you ever get a scratch on you…. what happened?”

Alastor focused in on the other woman, and let his emotional response come to him. He felt a sense of familiarity with her as well, another sliver of a soft and warm feeling that he couldn’t quite place, and strangely, an uncharacteristically large amount of grudging respect and… pity? He couldn’t quite parse it out. The more he focused the farther it fled, so he set it aside for later. 

Conclusion, a mixed positive he supposed. So she was acceptable for now.

From what he could tell, the dame in the tux was more likely an ally than the others. “Vaggie” just evoked a small amount of amusement and a sense of antagonism, and the _ cat- _ well strangely enough the _ cat _ also felt familiar. Perhaps he was an ally as well. It required more investigation and at the moment, his head hurt a little too much for the contemplation.

“Just need to clean up, promise,” he crossed his heart and tried to smile genuinely. 

“Well after you do, I do think we need to have a meeting, to, uh, talk about what happened,” the tuxedoed woman said. She smiled at him, and he could tell her statement was a question and not a command. It was a small sign of weakness, but he would let it pass.

“Yes, fine, fine,” he sighed. Not that he knew where the meeting room was, or if there even was one, so he took the lead to fix that, “I’ll meet you back _ down here _ after I run to-”

He fumbled momentarily, realizing he wasn’t sure if he had a room, or where it might be. This was a hotel, correct? Logically, he should have a room. _ Oh well _ , he told himself, _ Alastor, finish with confidence! _

“-my room and get rid of some of these _ annoying _hindrances.” 

To punctuate the point, he plucked another, smaller shard, out of his hand and twirled it between his fingers.

The rest of the group in the lobby seemed to accept that easily. They seemed put off at the display, giving Alastor an edge ahead of them. Furthermore, none of them questioned his statement. Alright, so he did have a room. Delightful.

Except now… they expected him to make his way there by himself. _ Drat _.

The spider began to sneak his way out from behind Alastor, obviously planning on hiding away from the aftermath of whatever this “meeting” might entail. A thought struck Alastor.

“My dear,” he quickly caught the arm of the spider and spoke softly, laying the charm on thick. “Would you mind lending a hand-” he glanced down at the man’s four arms, fumbling again but only for a moment, “-or… four?”

“_ Me? _” He replied, seemingly confused. Alastor cursed himself silently, was this out of character for him? Oh well, time to commit!

He lowered his voice further and spoke so only the spider could hear.

“Well, yes. You were right, I _ am _actually feeling a little under the weather, so a little support until I get to my room wouldn’t go unappreciated,” he murmured, and finished with a charming smile and a tug.

The spider blinked his wide, mismatched eyes, before returning an unsure smile and nodding. 

“Yeah, yeah, course hot stuff,” he replied, winking and linking his arm back up with Alastor’s. He successfully resisted the urge to tense or grimace at the term and the contact, because it worked. The spider leading him away, presumedly to his room. Success.

“And where do you think you’re going, Angel?” Vaggie snapped.

_ Drat again. _

Well at least he could stop calling him “the spider” in his head now. Angel it was.

“Uh,” Angel stumbled, but recovered quickly. “Well I can’t exactly let my dashing hero here go without a _ reward _, can I?” 

The way he twisted the words sounded outright obscene, and he finished the comment with an exaggerated wink at Alastor, who couldn’t help but tense up this time.

A scoff escaped his mouth and his face twisted into an obviously uncomfortable smile, eyes widening in concern and flickering around the room for an escape.

“Oh dear, oh no, no thank you,” he replied dryly, leaning slightly away from Angel. “Ah, that is- I mean-” he fumbled, before coughing to clear his throat uncomfortably, flustered.

Then he belatedly wondered if he should have pretended to display some other kind of reaction. His initial urge had overpowered his acting persona for a moment. Luckily, quickly scanning over the trio showed they didn’t see suspicious. Apparently this was their normal banter?

Even Angel seemed to roll with the blatant rejection, he just chuckled and gave a more natural, genuine grin, before giving a second, subtler wink and trying to tug him away again. Hm.

“If you’re planning to concoct some story together so that you can _ lie _to us-” Vaggie began.

“Just let them go,” the other woman sighed. “Just meet back down here, okay? I’ll call Niffty to, uh, clean that up.” She gestured to the bloody shards of glass he’d tossed on the floor and the splotches they’d left on the carpet. 

“Sounds excellent, _ Miss- _” Alastor’s smile twitched as he realized he still didn’t know her name, but he managed to pull the inflection of the word down so it sounded like the end of his sentence instead of him fumbling for a name he didn’t know. “See you then.”

The _cat_ (because oh yes, he’d forgotten about the _winged_ _cat_) who hadn’t spoken the entire time, watched them as they passed by the front desk. For the first time, he spoke up.

“Uh, Alastor,” he started, squinting at the other, “your shadow-” he cut the last word short, apparently deciding against finishing his sentence. “You sure you’re feeling alright? Not that I care, but…”

Except for save Angel, there was the most suspicion hidden behind those eyes. And perhaps he _ was _hiding something, but Alastor didn’t appreciate the challenge.

He gave a sharpened grin and tilted his head. He couldn’t see exactly what it was about his face beyond that, though, that made the cat’s eyebrows shoot up and made him recoil slightly. 

“Whatever, forget I asked. Dial it down, psycho,” he muttered, turning back to the front desk.

Alastor turned to Angel, brows slightly furrowed. What?

“He was just trying to be nice, ya know. You don’t gotta go all radio demon on him,” Angel muttered, rolling his eyes and pulling Alastor forward again, deeper into the hotel.

Radio demon? What did that mean?

And for a moment, a wave of dizziness washed over him. Sparks crackled at the corners of his eyes and trickled down his cheeks. His mind fogged and he faltered slightly, vision blurring at the edges. He couldn’t quite make out the details of the hallway he was being lead through. And speaking of, where was he exactly? This wasn’t his home. And who was this strange man?

Unbeknownst to him, the dials in his eyes began twirling counter-clockwise once more, slower now than in the crater, but spinning on nonetheless.

“Al?” The other man asked, tugging on his arm. 

As red sparks flickered from his eyes down across his cheeks like a constellation of illuminated freckles, Alastor’s memories flickered once more. The static made the fluff on Angel’s arms raise.

In his eyes, the dials reversed farther back just a few more spins, slowing, before finally settling down once again. 

Ah, right._ Hotel. Angel. Hell _. 

“I’m fine, lead the way,” he commented with a smile. Angel stared at him for a second before shrugging and continuing forward.

He could keep that straight at least.

He hoped.


	2. Light Up The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor tries to learn more about the various wacky cast of characters around him. For some reason, he picks the spider to keep around.
> 
> Meanwhile, Husk questions everyone's intelligence. Elsewhere, a couple of construction workers have the start of a Bad Day.
> 
> Angel continues to be very confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song I listened to while writing (and included in) this chapter is "Light Up The Night" by Jamie Berry, featuring Octavia Rose. I'm creating a theme of naming/including electro-swing songs in chapters so get ready for more of that.
> 
> Thank you for all the amazing feedback on this fic, it really inspires me to write more! <3

Alastor paid careful attention to the route the two demons took through the hotel halls, before Angel slowed to a stop in front of a door. It didn’t particularly stand out, so Alastor made sure to note down the floor and the number.

“Well, here we are,” Angel announced, releasing Alastor and folding his hands behind his back. “Uh, do you need anything else…”

The other man was still clearly ready to bolt, likely to find somewhere to hide until the fiasco blew over, but that wouldn’t do at all. He was, from what Alastor could tell, the easiest person here to sway to his side and therefore, _hopefully_, the easiest to get information out of without setting off any red flags.

Plus, he was... _pretty sure_ he didn’t hate him.

He had no idea what his relationships with the others were, so he was going to be sure to keep _ this one _in his sight and under his control. At least for the time being.

Alastor reached forward to open the door. Luckily, it appeared unlocked. He pushed it open before ushering Angel inside quickly.

“Oh, do come in,” he announced cheerfully. He watched as Angel followed without resistance, but still looked suspicious. It was an interesting combination, and didn't it make Alastor wonder. “I’ll just need to freshen up, and then we can go deal with everyone downstairs.”

The way he seemed to sway so easily to each of Alastor’s suggestions, but still seemed somewhat hesitant about it, made Alastor think that while he _ was _eager to comply, that perhaps Alastor hadn’t asked quite so much of him in the past. It made questions arise in Alastor’s mind about their relationship.

But then Angel smiled confidently and walked into Alastor’s room like _ he _owned the place, and Alastor was set back to square one, wondering just what this strange character was supposed to be to him.

“So, uh, this wasn’t some trick so you can get me to a 'secondary location' to tear my head off for breaking your microphone, right?” Angel chuckled, glancing around Alastor’s room in interest. 

Alastor paused, _ also _scanning the room with interest to try and quickly create a mental map of the area. He noticed Angel looking around as well, before his eyes landed on a plush armchair and he began to make his way over. 

Alastor noticed two doors in the room. He began to move over to the closest one. _Be the bathroom, _he tried to assert his will over the door mentally as he approached. _This must be the bathroom._

“I mean, if you’re _gonna_ murder me, I’d get it over with before Vaggie gets to me. You’ll miss your chance,” Angel replied, draping himself over the armchair with an exaggerated sigh. Luckily, at that moment, Angel punctuated the action by draping an arm over his eyes, so he didn’t see Alastor reach the first door. 

Because as Alastor yanked open the door, he was left foolishly staring at a neatly organized closet.

He very quickly closed the door and marched over to the second one, glancing over to confirm Angel hadn’t noticed. 

“You think I’d do such a thing?” Alastor asked, distractedly. He made sure to keep his voice neutral, perhaps edging on teasing. He crossed his fingers, mentally prepared himself, and reached for the doorknob. _Bathroom. This will be a bathroom._

As he, thankfully, opened the _ correct _door to the bathroom, Angel finally peaked out from under his arm.

He seemed taken aback by the question, and Alastor turned back to give him an inquisitive look, smile twisting wider. 

“Ah, I mean, seriously?” Angel asked. When Alastor just quirked an eyebrow and waited for an answer, he shrugged. “Well, uh, no. No I don't. If you haven’t yet, you won’t now. And I mean, I am a fuckin’ _ delight _to have around after all.”

He ended the sentence with a smirk and a wink, which Alastor just watched silently, smile twitching.

“Well, of course,” he finally replied. Angel seemed to react well to banter, so prompting him in the same manner was the best way to get more information and to seem the least suspicious, so Alastor let his voice take on a teasing tone as he turned back and squinted at the bathroom in front of him. He very quickly tried to locate where any medical supplies may be.

His eyes froze on the mirror above the porcelain sink.

“Oh- _ deer?! _” The words spilled from his mouth before he could stop them, eyes widening and smile freezing as he saw his own reflection. Two tufted ears were perked straight up in shock, and a pair of short antlers stuck out from the mess of red hair. 

“Huh?” Angel’s voice called from the other room. “You okay? I mean- I told you your face was kinda fucked up. Do you need help?”

He heard Angel shift, likely to stand up.

“Oh- oh don’t worry about it, _ dear _,” Alastor quickly shot back at the other man, tone a little sharper than he intended. “Never mind!”

He couldn’t think of a better excuse, too taken off guard by his appearance, before stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him with a solid click. He took a few breaths, back to the door and eyes searching his reflection wildly. 

Now, this _ couldn’t _ be right. A _ deer? Him? _

That just… wasn’t right! He was a hunter, a predator!

As his fluffy ears pinned backwards subconsciously and a pout crossed his lips, his body seemed to disagree. 

For some reason, he’d expected his- well his _ normal _ face to look back at him. The one with _ human _ears and dark hair and messy freckles not- well not antlers and cherry red locks. But you live and you learn. Or, well, you die and you adapt, he supposed.

At least he wasn’t _ fully _ a deer. Or a _ flying cat _ . Or a _ dog. Ugh. _

He scoffed in annoyance, nose twisted up in a discontented sneer, before straightening back up and beginning to search the bathroom.

He walked over and tried to pull on the mirror, to see if there was a cabinet behind it. 

There was not. He was just pulling on a mirror bolted to the wall like a fool. 

_ Great start. _

He searched through the drawers under the sink, to discover various amenities and, _ there they were _, medical supplies. 

Bit by bit, he removed the various shards of glass and metal from his left hand with the right, unable to control the hiss of pain as each splinter tore through his skin again on the way out. He dropped each piece of glass onto the white ceramic of the sink counter, where their crimson red color stood contrasted on the light background. Even the metal stood contrasted, due to the deep red coating of clotting blood. It was almost beautiful, the way the blood transformed the shards into rubies. But the aesthetic wasn’t _ exactly _worth the blood loss. 

When he finally managed to wrench out the last fragment, he slowly removed the blood soaked glove. It stuck to his skin, fabric almost glued down to his hand with the lukewarm liquid, and he had to bite his lip and yank it off all at once.

He barely suppressed a curse as his _ razor _ teeth cut through his own skin with ease, sinking neatly into his bottom lip. 

In a burst of frustration, he threw the glove down into the sink, adding the tattered bloody fragment to the ruby mosaic on the white porcelain. 

He stood for a moment, leaning forward on the sink and breathing heavily, eyes locked on his own reflection. A slow trickle of blood still leaked from the clawed hand, now exposed, which was clutching the sink. He glanced down, watching as the liquid dripped down the white ceramic and crawled slowly towards the drain.

His mind seemed to fog, as he became entranced with the sight.

His expression opened, intrigued, as the crimson blood leaking down the sink began to glow slightly. Like a pool of oil, it darkened to black, before shimmering with reds, purples, blues, like a macabre art piece.

He glanced back up, breaking his line of sight, to stare back at his own reflection.

A sharp intake of breath. Staring back at him, was a different creature. It’s antlers were elongated. It smiled, despite the fact his own mouth was firmly twisted into a frown. It’s eyes flickered, lit up with a bright ruby light. It’s pupils looked like clocks, ticking slowly back and forth across its irises. 

It leaned forward, as if to reach for him.

Suddenly, he found his right hand lifting, to strike out.

“_ Damn! _” 

This time he did yell, as he realized that without his conscious knowledge, he had brought the hand directly into the mirror.

He took a moment to draw in a deep breath, clutching his _ right _hand to his chest now and looking up at the ceiling, as if he could find all the answers to life (or death) on its surface.

“Alright. Alright. Fine. This is fine,” he muttered finally looking back down at the right hand.

Why didn’t he know why he’d used it to shatter the mirror’s surface?

It wasn’t nearly as damaged as the other. As he pulled the glove back, just his knuckles appeared to have been cut through its fabric. With a careful deliberation, and _ without _looking at the mirror, he rinsed off both hands and began to wrap them with bandages. He noted, vaguely, that his blood was red again.

Then he wondered why he’d added an ‘again’ to the end of that thought. 

Soon enough, he’d finished. He examined the hands, before looking back up at the shattered mirror. He grimaced, finding the largest shard to lean close to and examine his cheek in. 

There were only a couple fragments left in his cheek, which he easily removed, dropping onto the counter with a _ clink _before splashing water on his face and slapping a comical square bandage over the majority of his right cheek. 

Good enough. He took one more steadying breath.

The faint sound of music emanated from the room on the other side of the door. Angel must have turned on the radio. He listened for a moment, enjoying the sound of the melody muffled through the door, before gathering his persona together once more.

Pinning a grin neatly in place, he opened the door.

* * *

Angel sighed and leaned back in the plush chair, reaching out a lower arm to rub a hand up and down the red velvet of the arm. He was likely getting dust and dirt all over the thing, but Alastor hadn’t even said a word about it.

So, two options:

  * One, Alastor was brainwashed and currently being puppeted by a nicer, less murdery demon.
  * Two, Alastor was actually being nice to Angel.

“Now let's not get ridiculous here,” Angel muttered to himself, squinting at the door to the bathroom where Alastor stood. _Both those options were absurd._ Still…

“Oh _ dear! _” he heard Alastor exclaim from the bathroom. He perked up, leaning to try and glance into the room. 

“You okay?” he asked, grimacing. Hopefully Alastor wouldn’t get any more angry actually seeing the damage. Did he not _ feel _it? Why was he just reacting now? Actually, the Radio Demon being unable to feel pain would probably explain a lot.

“I mean- I told you your face was kinda fucked up,” he hedged, grimacing nervously. “Didn’t I?” he added, softly to himself. "Do you need help?"

Alastor promptly snapped sharply at him, and slammed the door. Angel cringed backwards, farther into the chair. 

It wasn’t like he was afraid of Alastor, he wasn’t. He was, perhaps, one of the few residents of the hotel who _ wasn’t _ either afraid or (overly) distrustful of the demon. He took him for his word. It was like he’d said the very first time they met- if he wanted to hurt someone (specifically if he wanted to hurt _ Angel) _he would have done so already. A long time ago.

He was more afraid, really, of the other demon finally snapping and refusing to… tolerate him anymore.

Alastor was an impressive demon. He was smart, charming despite his sinister fits of maliciousness, and, well he wasn’t too hard on the eyes either.

And they were… tentative friends?

But the day Angel finally did or said something that got the other demon to drop him and refuse to even acknowledge him anymore was inevitable, he knew. Just like the day that Charlie finally kicked him out, or the day Vaggie lost her self control and decked him, was inevitable.

Just like the day his family had disinherited him had been inevitable.

And the more he fucked up, the faster he felt it coming. Too bad he couldn’t help it. It was just how he was. A fuckup.

He slumped down and let out a loud sigh, wincing and drawing a sharp breath as he felt his chest throb again. It still hurt, but he felt he was already pushing his luck, so he resisted the urge to take off his shirt to check the damage. Who knew what Alastor would do then, if he came back out to find Angel half naked in his reading chair.

But then again, if he _ had _cracked a rib or something, he should probably check.

He heard a muffled sound from the bathroom, and something shattering. For a split second, he considered going over and knocking, but then he decided better.

And _ then _his chest constricted even more and he began to cough. 

Simultaneously, the radio perched on Alastor’s windowsill suddenly lit up with red light, and began playing an upbeat tune. An energetic, feminine voice erupted from the machine and began to sing and fill the air with a slightly fuzzy tune.

_ Let's get high on tonight, you and I _

_ Forget our cares, let's just share the delight _

_ Whoa, oh, whoa, oh _

_ Just let go _

Angel’s chest felt like a boa constrictor was wrapping tighter and tighter around it. It _ sucked. _

“Fuck it,” Angel muttered, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and glancing down to see if he had any bruises. He’d been thrown against the wall pretty hard when Alastor’s mic had exploded, but that had been about the only damage that had occurred, so it _ must _be something internal.

He did a quick check, carding his hands into his fluff, flattening it down, and pressing on his chest in various areas. He lifted his arms and twisted his center left, then right. He stretched each pair of arms over his head, testing the muscles.

Oddly enough, nothing he did seemed to aggravate the pain or the pressure any more, so maybe it wasn’t a broken rib.

The radio got louder as it caught on a word, jazzy beat continuing on, and Angel felt another coughing fit coming on as his lungs threw a fit. He lifted a hand to his mouth as he cleared his throat.

_ Night, night, night, night, night, night, hey _

Angel stood up, reaching one arm up to rest on his chest and another to keep covered over his mouth as he coughed. Alastor was kind of a neat freak (when he wasn’t a bloody mess with someone _else's _blood) so he might be a germaphobe too for all Angel knew. 

He strolled around the room, taking the moment to investigate. He hoped the movement might help sort out whatever issues he was having, or help identify it at least.

The room was relatively sparse, not a lot of personal or homely things, and everything was neatly in order. In fact, the most interesting thing in the room was definitely the radio.

He turned to it, as the tune blared on. Curiously, the light feminine voice singing the song seemed to distort.

_ Hey, _ _ hey, don't you see—ee—ee—ee—hey _

Some kind of remix, he guessed. He strolled over to it, tucking his hands in his pockets and tilting his head as he approached. 

_ Hey, _ _ hey, don't you see—ee—ee—ee—hey _

He raised an eyebrow, as red sparks flickered off the top of the antennae, which was angled towards Alastor’s tower in the distance.

_ Hey, don't you see—ee—ee _

Suddenly the music got even more fuzzy. Angel got closer, reaching out to fiddle with the knob.

A zap of sparks traveled from the radio to his hand as he extended it. He yelped, retracting the hand and taking several steps back. He glared at the offending object, pouting, as the channels shuffled, before settling back into the tune.

_ Hey boy, you're heading my way _

_ Come on over, sway with me _

_ Don't you see? We could light up the night _

_ You and me, we could be such a sight _

_ Whoa, oh, whoa, oh _

_ Just let go _

“Stupid radio,” Angel muttered shaking his arm that had been shocked for the _ second _time today, before turning and settling back in the chair. "Probably designed to do that. Stupid."

Strangely, his chest felt better though. That was one good thing anyway, he thought, as Alastor opened the door and re-entered the room. 

“So are we, uh, gonna plan what we’re telling Charlie or-” Angel began.

“_ Angel, _” Alastor suddenly interrupted, giving him a faintly concerned look, “is there a reason your shirt is undone?” He looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

Ha, deer in the headlights. Nice.

Angel _ meant _ to rationally explain, and apologize for making Alastor uncomfortable. That would be what a person with normal impulse control would do, but somewhere between his brain and his mouth his dumbass gene kicked in and what left his mouth was instead: “You’re right, I should have waited for you to take it off _ for _me, babe.”

Alastor just blinked, smile fixed in place, wide eyes looking at Angel.

Angel suppressed a cringe at himself as he smiled wide, batting his eyelashes, waiting for Alastor to shoot him down yet again so he could playfully roll with it. That _ was _their dynamic after all. And if Alastor wasn’t murdering him for breaking his mic, he wasn’t going to bite his head off for a badly timed innuendo, no matter how much it rubbed him the wrong way and Angel knew it.

“Ah, right, are you-?” Alastor started, fumbling. He was smiling tensely, and squinting at him, before his attitude suddenly shifted. It was like he pulled together a completely different mood, shrugging and gesturing nonchalantly with his left hand. Angel noticed it was bandaged now. He also noticed the right one was bandaged as well. “Oh _ Angel, _ what a character,” Alastor joked, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. Angel barely caught a glimpse of the shattered mirror. Huh. “Why _ do _I keep you around again?”

The phrase could have been harsh, Alastor _ had _used it in against Angel in the past in a much harsher, drier tone, but instead it was light and playful. Angel blinked. Well, he guessed he could roll with that.

“Well, we all know you adore my charming personality,” Angel said with a wink as he leaned back farther in the chair. He put on a faux innocent expression as he kicked his legs up over the arm and neatly crossed them at the ankle, draping himself all over it like a content cat. “I mean, I’m your favorite after all. You’re stuck on me, admit it.”

“Oh, am I?” Alastor replied, half teasing-half sarcastic. He crossed his bandaged arms behind his back and strolled across the room to the radio and examined it with a head tilt. Angel noticed how his eyes were still trained on him though. “_ Do _ tell.”

The radio whirred. Alastor looked at it for a second, before pinning Angel with his gaze out of the corner of his eyes again.

_ Hey boy, you're heading my way _

_ Come on over, sway with me _

_ Don't you see? _

_ Don't you see—ee—ee _

“What _ we _have is special,” Angel joked, “don’t tell me you’ve been seeing other demons? Who else do you swoop in to rescue?” Angel asked, feigning offence and resting a hand against his chest, gasping. “It’s Charlie, isn’t it? I’ll tell Vaggie, that’ll teach you.”

“Oh, I would _ never, _darling,” Alastor practically purred, smiling and giving Angel an appraising look up and down. 

That was about where Angel faltered. The gears in his head churned to a stop and a faint blush stained his white fluff. 

Okay, so, this was _ definitely _ a trap. Either Alastor was about to tempt him over before throwing him out the window he was currently standing so primly in front of, or… something else equally sinister. Whatever it was... _definitely _a trap. 

Somehow that didn’t stop Angel from continuing on, mouth moving and spitting out more nonsense before his mind could think better.

“See, I knew it,” he half-joked, chuckling. His eyes darted to Alastor, before averting when he saw the other still looking at him intensely. “Of course, I _am_ irresistible, so who can blame you?”

“_ Indeed _,” Alastor replied, drawing out the word and staring at Angel. His gave Angel another charming smile that made Angel shift, trying to upkeep his nonchalant aura. He seemed about to say something else, but he was distracted as the radio in front of him shuffled again and began playing in a different, deeper tone.

_ Don't you see—ee—ee _

“Hm,” Alastor murmured, reaching out to turn the knob. As his hand made contact, the antenna sparked again. He raised an eyebrow at the sight, before shrugging. 

Out in the distance, red lightning shot out of a far away radio tower. Not that either of the hotel residents noticed.

“_ Anyway _,” Alastor began, looking over to where Angel was still sitting sideways over the armchair. He gave the other a sharp grin and took a step forward. “You were saying?”

Angel’s brain worked at high speed to remember what he actually had been saying. He was slightly thrown off by new, nicer, teasing(?), Alastor. And he _ probably _wasn’t going to murder Angel, but he hedged his bet anyway.

“Uh,_ anyway _! Good news is I checked and I don’t think I have any broken ribs! Bad news is if we don’t get our story together, Vaggie might just give me one. So… uh, what’s the plan?”

Alastor paused, obviously thinking, before answering carefully.

“What do _ you _think we should tell them?” he asked. The question was phrased rhetorically, as if Alastor was waiting to hear what stupid excuse Angel would come up with. But when Alastor seemed to be waiting for an actual answer, Angel shrugged.

“I mean, I definitely fucked up this one, Charlie’s definitely going to be upset, but she didn’t seem _ that _angry, so I can probably get off the hook with her. And, well, you were just coming to get me, right?”

Alastor’s head shot up, and he looked slightly intrigued before his expression returned to neutral. Weird. _ Again. _

Little did Angel know, Alastor was mentally smacking himself. Ah, so _ Charlie _ was the other _ woman _. He supposed that made sense. Short for Charlotte, likely. 

Angel waited for a moment. It took a second longer than it probably should of for Alastor to realize he was waiting for an answer.

“Right,” Alastor responded, nodding. He waited expectantly for more.

There was another moment of silence. 

Angel glanced around. Okay… guess _ he _was still supposed to be talking.

“Right… so Charlie’s gonna be mostly mad at me. Or, well, you too because of that reporter incident. But you look kinda pathetic right now so we can play that up,” he gestured to the large bandage on Alastor’s right cheek, but quickly backpedaled when Alastor’s expression came down into a glare, “I mean- you look great as always, sexy, but we _ could _play up the whole ‘you got hurt’ thing or somethin’,” he finished with a nervous smile. “To, you know, get you off the hook.”

“_ Right, _” Alastor drawled, ear twitching in irritation at Angel's words. He glanced down at the bandages on his hands. “And you think Charlie would believe that?”

He drew out Charlie’s name longer than the rest of his words, as if rolling it around in his mouth, testing it.

“Yeah, she’s a sucker for a sob story, and she likes you anyway,” Angel replied. “It’s mainly Vaggie who’ll be pissed but she’s always pissed. Just, I dunno, we’ll say we’re sorry and you say you’ll make up for it with some good advertising and it’ll be smooth sailing.”

“Sounds like a plan then,” Alastor replied shortly.

Angel waited for anything more, or a 'nice try, but we're following _my _plan Angel,' or... a 'sike' or _something._

It didn’t come. 

Alastor just watched him expectantly, which was… _ so weird. _

“_ Okay _,” Angel drawled.

“Okay,” Alastor responded, raising an eyebrow. As if _ Angel _was being the weird one here. “We shouldn’t keep them waiting, then.”

Angel shook his head, as if trying to shake off the weirdness of this whole interaction. “Yeah, sure.”

Alastor strolled over the door, glancing over his shoulder as Angel scrambled to his feet. 

“You might want to button up, Angel,” he responded, giving him an almost… amused look, tempered with what was probably frustration.

“Oh, right,” Angel responded, quickly closing his shirt again and tugging on the ends so they rested properly again. His reached up to make sure his fluff was decently styled. He was still somewhat dusty from the debris kicked up from the fight, but he was somewhat presentable at least.

Alastor cleared his throat, causing Angel to look up at him, hands freezing in the middle of teasing and fluffing up his chest so it laid properly in the V of his shirt. The look Alastor gave him, which could only be described as completely befuddled and impatient, spurred him into motion. Now that was a look he was used to. He looked down at his outfit one last time, before shrugging. Good enough.

“Alright, off to the firing squad!” Angel cheerfully exclaimed, trotting over to Alastor.

Alastor opened the door to the hallway. Angel waited briefly for him to exit so he could follow, and was caught off guard when he realized the other was holding the door open _ for him. _He was leaning forward slightly, holding it open and gesturing with one bandaged hand.

“After you,” he prompted, raising an eyebrow when Angel just stood there, dumbfounded.

“Oh, uh, why thank you,” Angel responded, somewhat stilted as he quickly jumped into action, walking out the door and glancing back at Alastor. 

He half expected Alastor to slam the door behind him, leaving him to go down and face Charlie and Vaggie alone. Instead, Alastor primly stepped out behind him and closed the door with a click.

“Shall we?” Alastor said, giving him a smile and waving down the hall with his hand.

Angel wasn’t sure if this new, nicer Alastor was very exciting, or very terrifying.

“We shall,” he responded instead of voicing said thought, and the two of them walked together back down to the lobby.

* * *

Husk, through association with the people he worked with, had to deal with a_ lot _ of bullshit. Some days had less bullshit than others, but most, if not all days, had varying levels of shit that he never had enough energy to deal with. 

Today, was shaping up to be one of those high levels of bullshit days.

“You shouldn’t just let them off the hook like that,” Vaggie muttered, sitting heavily on the lobby couch.

“They’re not ‘off the hook,’” Charlie responded, crossing her arms and sitting down next to Vaggie. “I just-” 

She sighed, resting her cheek in her hand.

“How many chances are you going to give them?” Vaggie asked, but she knew the answer before she even finished the question. “‘_ However many it takes. _’”

“However many it-” Charlie said simultaneously, breaking off and chuckling as Vaggie responded to her own question instead. “That’s the whole point, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Vaggie responded, smiling slightly and leaning back. She started, jokingly, “but are you _ sure _we can’t-”

“-we can’t kick out Angel Dust, _ no, _ ” Charlie responded, joking back. “But, I do wish we could, oh I don’t know, _ground him_ or something?”

“We can always lock him in his room?” Vaggie offered hopefully.

“Maybe if we were running a prison,” Charlie sighed, rolling her eyes and dismissing the thought.

“... so that’s a maybe?” Vaggie asked.

“No!” Charlie exclaimed, starting to laugh and giving Vaggie's shoulder a shove.

The two woman exchanged a couple of lovesick chuckles. Husk suppressed a gag. 

“Not to break up you two _ lovebirds _ ,” Husk grumbled, rolling his eyes at the term of endearment and scoffing. “But did _anyone else_ notice something strange?”

“Hm?” Charlie asked, looking up from Vaggie’s face.

“They always seem suspicious, what do you mean?” Vaggie asked, pivoting to look at Husk and squinting.

Husk just stared at them, expression deadpan.

“Nothing? Really?” He asked.

“No, what do you mean?” Charlie asked, brow furrowing as she tilted her head.

Guess not everyone was as observant as him. But really, it wasn’t hard to notice people’s exaggerated silhouettes as they entered the hotel. The dark shadows literally _ always _towered across the whole lobby when they blocked out the light, throwing shade onto his front desk/bar and casting ominous silhouettes across the entire room.

It was pretty fucking hard to miss if you had a pair of working eyes. Or working eye. Whatever. 

Which apparently nobody else in this hotel did.

He didn’t want to deal with this shit.

“Whatever,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “Probably nothing.”

He didn’t want to mess with Alastor’s shit if he was trying to keep something under wraps, and he wasn’t a snitch. So if the girls couldn’t figure it out themselves, that was their problem, not his.

Really, they _ still _hadn’t noticed that Alastor’s shadow could move by itself in the first place. So they wouldn’t know to be concerned that it was missing from the knees up anyway.

And speak of the devil.

The sound of footsteps descending brought the attention of the three demons down in the lobby to the large staircase. Charlie, distracted, stood up and moved over to the bottom of the stairs to watch Alastor and Angel approach. 

Vaggie, on the other hand, gave Husk a look clearly reading “I won’t forget you said something sketchy and followed it up with ‘whatever, never mind,’ we _will_ talk later.”

“Why _ hello, Charlie _,” Alastor exclaimed confidently, stepping down the final step and landing jauntily on his toes. “Vaggie,” he nodded towards the other girl. His eyes flickered to Husk, and he just smiled, nodding at him and remaining silent.

“Rude,” Husk muttered, squinting at Alastor. 

“Are you feeling better, Alastor?” Charlie asked, eyes glancing over the bandages on his face and hands. 

“Much better, thank you, _Charlie_,” he responded, grinning and tilting his head. “Now, why don’t we step somewhere more private to discuss this unfortunate fiasco,” he gestured to the lobby, “never know when a resident might step in!”

“Oh! You’re right, let’s just go to my office then,” Charlie responded, nodding. Alastor’s grin widened. So that was exactly what he wanted. Who the fuck knew why though.

Husk squinted at him. 

Alastor briefly glanced over and caught his expression. The two locked eyes for a second, and Alastor’s eyes narrowed as his grin sharpened.

As Charlie turned away, he turned back towards Angel, leaning in close and whispering something to the other man. He rested a hand lightly on the back of Angel’s upper arm. 

Angel jumped slightly at the sudden contact, but tilted his head to listen. Alastor ever so subtly gestured to Husk, eyes darting over to lock with his again, and then Angel turned to look his way as well. 

Husk narrowed his eyes further. His gaze traveled farther behind the two, over to where Alastor’s shadow should have been, but wasn’t. Or well, wasn't from the knees up anyway.

He looked back at Angel, and glared at where a spark of red seemed to materialize from Alastor’s hand, skittering up Angel’s arm before disappearing around his collarbone, where his shoulder met his chest. He coughed slightly, but continued to listen intently to whatever Alastor was saying. Neither of them seemed to notice.

So... either they were both idiots or- no. No, that was it. They were both idiots.

Angel turned to murmur something back to Alastor, leaning in close to the other man’s perked ears.

Alastor nodded, before straightening back up and turning to follow Charlie.

Well, weren’t those two acting chummy. Fucking suspicious is what that was. Did nobody else have the brainpower to notice how fucking suspicious that was?

He took another chug of whiskey before turning to watch the front door again.

Whatever, it wasn’t his business.

* * *

“Charlie, have I ever mentioned, I _do_ love your interior design,” Alastor drawled as the four demons traveled down the hall to Charlie’s office. “Very… homey.”

His eyes alighted on a particularly interesting picture.

There was “Charlie,” the _ dame _ who ran the hotel, and “Vaggie,” who was either intimately involved with the other woman or wanted to be from the way they interacted. “Angel,” was in the picture as well, who was his new steadfast companion whether he wanted to be or not (and Alastor highly suspected he _ wanted _ quite a bit). Then there was “Husk,” who’s name he’d learned with a casual comment to Angel back in the lobby. All it had taken was a light touch and a teasing “Is it just me, or is _ he _looking extra disgruntled this evening?” and Angel had easily replied with a, “Husk? Pfft, maybe he’s just extra hungover,” easy as can be. 

So looking at the picture, he figured he was batting pretty well all things considered. There was only one other woman in the picture he didn’t recognize, but he hadn’t met her yet either. Her one eye was rather distinctive, he’d have to _ keep an eye out _ for her. He almost chuckled.

Oh, and of course _ he _was in the picture as well. 

_ He _ stood between Charlie and Angel. Charlie was smiling wide, Vaggie on her right, Alastor on her left, an arm wrapped around both of them. _ He _was smiling equally as wide, eyes trained on Charlie, while Angel leaned in on his left side and rested an arm on his shoulder, looking somewhat bored. Husk stood to Vaggie’s right, looking just as disgruntled as he appeared in the lobby today, confirming that characterization, while the small, strange woman, was standing in front of them all. She appeared almost blurred, as if caught mid motion, arms stretched wide.

The plaque below the picture read “Grand Reopening.” 

Interesting. All right.

“You better not be trying to change the subject,” Vaggie accused, squinting her one eye at Alastor. The way the cross over the other one seemed immobile over her hair was… also interesting.

“Don’t be so _ hostile, _dear,” he responded, reaching out instinctively to prod at her.

She seemed to materialize a knife out of _thin air_, pointing it at him.

Alastor froze, grin immobile, eyes trained on the weapon.

Something instinctual rose up inside of him, and suddenly the knife was being yanked out of the other woman’s hand. It went _ flying _ with incredible force, impaling into the wall behind Alastor and embedding itself to the _ hilt _in the thick plaster wall with the amount of force behind it.

“_ Hey _-!” Vaggie yelped. She took a step back, eye wide, as energy crackled around Alastor. The air filled with a dry heat as electricity sparked at the corner of Alastor’s eyes, that had briefly transformed into dials.

Vaggie tensed, hands clenched into fists and heart jumping to her throat as she watched the demon loom in front of her.

All of this occurred in the span of a few seconds.

Angel, who had been walking slightly behind him, bumped into Alastor from behind with an “oof.”

The static dissipated, before Alastor’s eyes returned to normal as he stumbled slightly forward when Angel knocked into him. 

“Sorry,” Angel said, stepping backwards. 

“No need, my fault, dear!” Alastor, cheerfully responded, shaking his head once and stepping forward again as if nothing happened.

Vaggie, who stood still, eye wide, watched as the other three continued walking forward. Did _ nobody _notice that? 

“Hey!” she called after a moment of shock, racing after the other three, but they had already begun to discuss something else as they entered Charlie’s office.

“So, I’d like to begin with an apology,” Alastor said, eyes sweeping across the office before landing on two chairs positioned in front of a large desk. Charlie swept past them to sit behind the desk, a plaque reading “Charlie Magne” positioned on the edge of it. Well, if he hadn’t figured it out yet, there it was.

“Oh?” Charlie seemed pleasantly surprised.

Alastor strolled forward, pulling out the first chair for Angel. The other man seemed to hesitate a step, before giving Alastor a warm, if unsure, smile and sitting down in the chair. He pulled up one leg to rest an ankle on the other knee, leaning back in his chair, as Alastor moved on and pulled out the second for himself.

“Yes, the two of us,” he looked over at Angel, “created quite the fiasco, but that was _ not _our intention.”

“Wait-” Vaggie tried to cut in, rushing over to stand at Charlie’s right side and glare at Alastor. She was clearly one of his greatest threats at the moment, so he made sure to not only ignore her, but speak louder over her, just to emphasize his superiority.

Amazingly, it seemed to actually work. Wow, these others _really_ were something. Either they were even more gullible than even the fools he’d met in life, or he had already charmed them so much they were hooked on his every word.

He glanced from Charlie to Angel.

Maybe a little of each.

“Yes, Angel here may have made a… mistake,” he started. He had arranged their chairs so they were slightly angled towards each other, a united front, and punctuated the remark by reaching over and laying a hand on his arm where it rested on the arm of the chair. “But I was simply on my way to _ extract _him from the scenario with the least amount of… exposure.” 

He seemed to take a moment to roll the word in his mouth. “Bad publicity,” he added on, after reasoning that seemed to be what all of the people around him seemed most concerned about. They must really hate reporters. He wondered why.

Furthermore, _ he _was a reporter of a sort, wasn’t he? He did news segments in his broadcasts while he was alive, at least. Maybe that’s why he was here, and why they hated the rival news, whatever that was. Competition?

He glanced over at Angel, but he was just looking at Alastor, clearly expectant. Well, it did make sense that he would be the spokesperson for the two of them. It probably happened often, what with how close the two of them… must be?

“Things went a little south,” Alastor continued, “I surely didn’t expect ‘Sir Pentious’ to… break my microphone.” 

Wasn’t that still strange as well, who brought a microphone to a fight? _ Him _ apparently, and he still didn’t know why that was important. Ah well, maybe someone would let it slip why-

“Yeah, isn’t that like, a part of you?” Charlie asked, grimacing. “Is that… bad?”

Oh, well _ there _ it was! Hell, these people were just handing _ everything _ to him. He’d call them suckers if he was more sure of their relationships. Well, at the most they were _ his _suckers, but they were definitely suckers.

“A minor setback, really,” Alastor responded, brushing off her concern. He wondered briefly if he should actually be concerned, but being concerned over a microphone seemed a little silly to him, even if it was… a part of him?

Then again, he had deer ears, so who knew.

“And your hands?” Charlie asked. She seemed genuinely concerned, and wasn’t that sweet? Maybe that’s why he felt some sort of positive feeling towards her. He always had a soft spot for the _ truly _innocent and pathetic. Almost made him protective. Almost.

But he couldn’t pass judgement yet, the woman did run a business. In Hell, apparently. That had to take _ some _moxie.

“Fine, fine, like I said. But _that_ was the reason we were caught by that reporter,” Alastor replied. “Wouldn’t have happened otherwise, and we didn’t intend it in the slightest, right, _ Angel? _”

“Huh?” Angel, who had been staring at Alastor’s hand on his arm, looked up. “Oh… yeah! I mean- fuck,” he sighed and leaned his head back, “I admit I messed up by being out there, and, uh, I’ll try to be better? But I really didn’t mean for you to notice- _I mean-” _he fumbled as Charlie raised an eyebrow, “I didn’t mean to get caught?”

“Still not that much better,” she sighed, but her frown quickly pivoted to a grin. “But you _ did _apologize! And admit you did something wrong! That’s a step forward!”

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” Angel responded, and resisted rolling his eyes. If that’s what she wanted to hear. “So yeah. That’s it. Are we off the hook yet?”

“No!” Vaggie out a choked out sound, but Alastor, eyes flickering over to her, spoke louder.

“_ Yes, _ we are _ very _ sorry, right _ Angel? _” he said, giving the other man a look and squeezing his arm slightly.

“Yeah! That’s what I said!” He responded, lifting his other arm and shrugging.

Alastor sighed, closing his eyes momentarily, before opening them with an extra burst of light behind them and turning back to Charlie.

“Well, yes, I suppose that _ is _the best you’ll get out of him,” Alastor said, almost conspiratorial towards Charlie. He raised the other arm to stage whisper towards her. “Whatever shall we do with him, hmm?”

Charlie chuckled, while Angel let out a disgruntled “hey!”

“I thought-” Angel began, but paused as Alastor aimed a subtle wink at him. He just crossed his lower arms and grumbled.

“But, as you can see, it was _entirely_ incidental. However, I understand that it must have caused some bad publicity, as I said-”

“_ Yeah, _ ” Vaggie cut in again, “we had to leave a potential resident _ waiting _ on us. Who knows if she’ll still want to come knowing you two could destroy the place! _ And _ we missed that dinner date you ever so insistently pushed us towards. What was up with _ that. _Huh?” 

Alastor blinked, smile unfaltering as he quickly processed the new information. So, “date,” confirmed the two woman were a couple. “Left a new resident waiting,” there was a potential out of the confrontation, he could emphasize that. And apparently the two of them, Angel and himself, had the destructive capability to destroy an entire hotel. Good to know.

“Aww, you two were actually gonna go on a date?” Angel chimed in, giving the two of them a knowing smirk. “How _ cute- _”

“Shut it! I don’t want anything out of you,” Vaggie snapped. Charlie quickly tried to defuse the situation.

“It’s true, it definitely set the hotel back. I- I believe you didn’t do it _ entirely _on purpose,” Vaggie scoffed and Angel averted his gaze guiltily and shrugged. Charlie continued, “but still…”

“Well, I could always try and counteract the negative publicity, of course,” Alastor supplied. “If we act fast. I could… do a broadcast-”

“I’m not sure _ your _ kind of broadcast would be at _ all _reassuring,” Vaggie muttered. 

That drew Alastor back. What was _ that _supposed to mean? He hadn’t even considered he wasn’t still a radio host, he must be. Everyone kept saying… radio related stuff to him. Angel had mentioned a “radio demon” and he had his old radio in his room. But apparently he was a radio host… but a bad one? Perhaps he was missing something. 

“Or I could try and reassure her myself,” Alastor hedged. Angel laughed out loud as Charlie smiled awkwardly. 

“I don’t know if-” Charlie began.

“I don’t know if you’ve looked in the mirror recently, but you’re not exactly the most reassuring demon in town,” Angel said through chuckles, before looking up at Alastor’s smile-scowl and straightening up, “but don’t worry, I still think you’re gorgeous of course.”

He shot Alastor a finger gun, while Vaggie scoffed and Charlie sighed.

Alastor just kept smiling. And scowling. Alright he had _ thought _ he had the upper hand here, but now he was just frustrated. It was like they were all in on some joke he didn’t know. And he did _ not _ like being a _ joke. _

“Then, forgive my rudeness, but _ what _ is it exactly you want from me- _ us? _” Alastor said through gritted teeth. He quickly recovered with a softer smile and a, “is there something we can do?”

That seemed to surprise Charlie, who smiled back.

“I, well just don’t do it again?” She asked, giving him an imploring look. “There was no damage to the hotel after all. Just, sometimes you two make lesser demons nervous-”

Alastor barely suppressed the growl of “good” that he felt raise up in his chest.

“-which is super bad for business after all! With such a powerful… malevolent demon… I mean you know how it is.”

Alastor’s closed smile twitched at the edge.

“Shouldn’t it make them feel _ better? _ ” He drawled, tense edge to his voice. He was feeling unimpressed and unreasonably confrontational. “Knowing ‘such a powerful malevolent demon’ was on the staff? As opposed to _ off _the staff?”

Charlie seemed surprised by this as well, expression furrowing and nervously glancing over to Vaggie, who gave her a “see?!” gesture.

Alastor’s mind began to glaze over, feeling some unknown presence eclipse his own mind. He felt… lightheaded, and… lightweight? And for some reason he was incredibly _ starving _.

“I mean, I suppose you’re right,” she began, adopting her “conflict management” voice.

“Uh,_ Al? _” Angel whispered quietly, slightly concerned. He reached with his other hand to cover the one currently gripping his arm in a iron vice-like grip. 

Alastor blinked, snapping out of the boiling temper that had begun to overtake him and glancing over at Angel. He shook his head slightly as he felt the weight return to his body and the fuzziness clear from his head. 

“I’m sorry if I made you feel unappreciated,” Charlie continued, oblivious to the small exchange between the other two. “I- maybe a radio broadcast from our sponsor would be a good idea?” she continued, nervously, “but one without any, ah, bloodshed? Would probably be best.”

Alastor blinked again, eyes refocusing on Charlie. Did she say bloodshed?

Oh dear, did everyone know about that? Was that common knowledge in Hell? That made sense actually, and explained several comments he'd received thus far.

“Of course,” Alastor said, smiling and reclaiming his composure. “It could be simple. Just a little announcement to reassure everyone that the hotel is still… safe!” 

“Sounds like a horrible idea,” Vaggie muttered.

“Sounds like it could work,” Charlie responded at the same time, more cheerful and slightly louder than the other woman.

Alastor glanced over at Vaggie, watching as she sighed and looked away. Looks like more than one person was feeling “unappreciated” around here. Alastor noted that down, perhaps to use in the future.

“I could do that, while you two go and retrieve your new resident,” Alastor supplied. “I’ll just pop over to the radio station, no problem at all.”

Plus, it would give him a chance to investigate the station, hopefully _ that _would have more information than his relatively empty hotel room. Not that he ever really held on to many possessions when alive either, so it was rather in character… oh drat.

Well, it was worth a try.

“Sounds like a plan, great work team,” Angel exclaimed, suddenly standing up and pushing his chair back. “Let’s go do that then. Come on, Al.”

He gave Alastor a strange look, subtly angling his head towards the door. Alastor got the point, he stood up and turned to give Charlie and the stammering Vaggie one last smile and nod.

“Agreed? Agreed!” He cheerfully exclaimed before Angel reached over to tug him out of the room. He hissed as the other’s hand wrapped around his bandaged hand. Angel whispered an apology before grabbing his wrist instead and whisking him away.

He vaguely heard Vaggie and Charlie both try to speak, but soon enough the two of them were out of the room and down the hall. Alastor just looked around, confused by the other’s sudden urgency and following willingly.

When they finally traveled a few hallways away and turned the corner, Angel suddenly stopped and spun on Alastor, causing him to stop short as well before he bumped into the other man’s chest.

“You wanna explain what the hell that was?” Angel snapped, narrowing his mismatched eyes on Alastor and raising a hand to point at his chest.

Alastor, caught off guard and unsure, blinked his wide eyes. He glanced to the left, then to the right, then back at Angel.

“I’m… sorry?” he tried, unsure. 

“_ Sorry? _” Angel asked, incredulous, leaning back and raising a hand.

Alastor tried to quickly do some mental math, adding up everything he said and dividing it by what he knew. And he came up with… nothing. Damn.

“I’m sorry… dear?” he tried again, smiling nervously and quirking a brow. He was completely at a loss. 

“_ I- _ what the _ hell, _ Al! You looked like you were about to fucking- I don’t know- _ eat _ Charlie?” Angel snapped, crossing his arms. “It’s one thing going all fuckin’ radio dials and shark teeth or some shit to scare someone, _ whatever _ . I get it. You may not know this but I can _ tell _ when you’re doing it for shits and giggles, okay? I-” he fumbled for a moment, averting his eyes and flushing slightly, “I’ve watched, I can tell, _ whatever _,” he mumbled.

But then he straightened again and pinned Alastor with a glare. “But that- something in your eyes _ wasn’t right. _ So you want to explain why you’ve been acting so goddamn weird? _Or...? _”

Alastor fumbled. For a moment, he considered what he knew.

So, clearly, Angel was his closest ally, right? The other man had been there when he woke up. He’d lead him back to safety from an apparently dangerous situation. Had offered to help him with his wounds, though Alastor had denied him. He kept making himself available, kept offering help, and was obviously- well either infatuated with him or admired him greatly. The way he blushed in certain situations, and all the touching. 

And something in Alastor’s emotions, well. He didn’t… _ hate _ him. And there was something there that wasn’t… _terrible_. He hadn’t acted out against the other man in the time he knew him despite the clear annoyance and those- the _ constant _innuendos that made him bristle. 

Plus, despite the rising tension he kept feeling with all the other “staff” he’d met, the way his mind would flicker out of his own control or the way he’d suddenly be a few steps ahead in the hallway and not remember why someone was giving him a wide-eyed look, he hadn’t experienced that with Angel. Well, not that he knew of. Which… seemed like a good thing.

Despite the facts… not _ quite _adding up… maybe Angel had been telling the truth back in his room, instead of joking like Alastor had assumed. Maybe they were… stuck on each other?

Heavens, he had _no_ idea how to deal with that. Or why past Alastor would let that happen in his right mind. 

He took all of this into consideration, fully weighing the importance of his apparent relationship with Angel Dust, and considering the mutual trust it must take to sustain such a thing. All of this he considered, how they _ must _ tolerate and support each other, so if he was going to confide in anyone, shouldn’t it be this person? This he mulled over, and _ debated _, and deliberated, before he finally said:

“I’m afraid I just wasn’t myself for a moment. It’s been a stressful day, especially with my, ah, microphone, as it is. I swear it won’t happen again.”

Well, he never claimed to be a good person. Or an honest one.

Angel seemed unconvinced, but Alastor brushed it over by reaching out and wrapping an arm around Angel’s back. The other man jumped slightly, but easily moved with the the motion as Alastor began to lead him away and back towards the lobby.

“I-” Angel began, brow furrowed, but Alastor just wrapped his hand around Angel’s side and pulled him further into the lobby. He pivoted, dragging the hand down Angel’s upper arm and using his left hand to grasp Angel’s right, so that they were standing face to face.

“Don’t you trust me, Angel?” he asked, giving his most sincere smile and using his most persuasive voice. Soft, seemingly vulnerable, coated with a layer of charm.

It had always worked on the nice dolls he’d courted in life. Unfortunately for them, it had usually been so he had a convenient alibi to take dancing on nights where bodies showed up.

Angel blinked at him, shifting slightly. 

Neither paid attention to the cat behind the desk squinting at them again, muttering a soft “what fuckin’ ring of Hell am I in now,” and rubbing at his eyes before squinting at them again.

“I- yeah- sure- of course, Al,” Angel finally answered. His face was still twisted in concern, and he couldn’t look at Alastor directly. He aimed his gaze at the ground, brows brought down as he searched the rug for answers. He wasn’t sure what exactly his response _ should _be, but the carpet didn’t give him any more clues.

He nearly jumped out of his skin as Alastor released one of his hands to lift up Angel’s chin to look him in the eyes.

He watched, eyebrows shooting up his forehead, as red sparks danced down Alastor’s cheeks again. They looked almost like iridescent freckles for just a moment, before fading out. He was giving Angel his most charming smile.

“_ Smile, _ darling,” he purred, causing Angel to blush. His eyes were still confused and concerned, but he put on a smile anyway. “Much better, see dear, you look so much more beautiful like that!”

Angel almost completely dropped the other man’s hand. Seriously, _what the hell_.

“_What the hell?_” a voice echoed across the room at the desk, Husk leaning forward and squinting, as if he was seeing things. Of course, again, neither noticed.

“Alright! I’m going to head out to my radio station, but I’ll be back soon, I swear,” Alastor said, giving Angel’s hands a squeeze. 

“I- yeah? Alright?” he replied, still smiling but looking Alastor up and down.

“I _ do _ apologize that all this has been so stressful,” Alastor sighed, tilting his head and finally averting his eyes from Angel. Only then did Angel realize there was a weight pressing down on his chest, as it suddenly lifted. “We should do something _ fun _when this is all swept under the rug. Remind me, have we gone dancing recently?”

“Uh, no,” Angel responded. He felt that was pretty obvious. Then again, nice Alastor seemed to be missing a lot of the obvious.

“Well, we should! When I get back, but for now, stay out of trouble, _ hm _darling?” He gave Angel’s hand one last squeeze. For a moment, it looked like he was contemplating something, before he let Angel’s hand drop and suddenly turned towards the door. 

“Uh,” Angel responded, which was beginning to feel like his catch phrase. He was so off balance, he responded with a simple, “yeah, of course.”

Alastor gave him one last smile and nod, before opening the door to the outside. He paused. Hesitating and mulling something over.

"I apologize if I concerned you," he said, looking over his shoulder at Angel. Strangely enough, that seemed like the first truly sincere thing to come out of Alastor's mouth for the past hour.

It was evening now, meaning the light from the doorway which usually caused the shadow of whoever was in it to arc across the room was at its peak. Angel, too busy squinting at Alastor’s back, felt like something was ever so slightly off, but couldn’t place his finger on it.

Husk, still sitting upright behind his bar, was fucking _flabbergasted_.

As the door shut with a _ slam _behind Alastor, red electricity danced across the seam when it closed. It traveled from the center, before racing around the edges and shooting off into the walls of the hotel. For a moment, it seemed like symbols lit up in the lobby, before quickly fading.

“Alright, what the _ fuck _ ,” Angel said, as Husk exclaimed, “And what the _ fuck _was that?”

The two turned to face each other, Angel just now noticing the other man in the room, despite the fact he was almost always in the same goddamn spot. Why did nobody ever notice he was always in the same goddamn spot.

Angel just raised all four of his arms in the biggest shrug he could, eyes wide and mouth pursed to the side. 

“I got no fucking clue man!” He exclaimed. 

Husk raised a hand to rub his eyes, grumbling.

“You know what? I don’t wanna know. I _ don’t _wanna know,” he muttered, shifting his hands to rub at his temples instead. “You assholes can figure that out. I’m clocking out.”

“Husk,” Angel began, dropping his arms and stepping towards the other man.

“You all can get static-shock-murdered, I’m going to the _ actual _ bar,” Husk muttered, dematerializing all of the dirty dishes he hadn’t bothered to clean. “Fuck it, I’m going to the _ casino _.”

“_ Husk. _ The fuck does _ that _ mean? The _ fuck- _what-?” Angel made an incredulous face at the other man and raised his arms again.

“This whole place is going to hell,” he muttered before turning away. In one motion, he materialized a card and clocked out from behind the front desk. He didn’t even look back at Angel before turning and heading towards the door.

“Do you- Husk? _ Husky _ ? Do _ you _ have _ any _ fuckin’ clue what's- _ Husk! _ Man, come _ on! _”

* * *

  
  


Darkness was descending over the city, signaling the approaching night time during which the evil deeds of Hell would truly ramp up.

On the other side of town, at the bottom of the newly added crater on the corner of a decimated city block, a flicker of motion came to life.

Lying on the floor of the crater, puddled into the very lowest cracks and fragments, was something that looked quite similar to a black oil spill. Like a splotch of spilled iridescent ink, reflections of purple and blue and red slid across the surface of the substance, as it began to move.

Coalescing into form, an arm slowly reached up, growing longer and stretching up the side of the crater, scrabbling at the side weakly before sliding back down. Claws elongated from the shape, trying to dig into the rough stone side, but it was immaterial. 

Slowly, a head and shoulders formed from the black matter, eyes faintly alight with a dim blue energy that further back-lit the twisted frown the figure was wearing from inside. 

For the next few minutes, the form twisted up on itself, slowly extracting a more defined shape from the puddle of shadows, until a weak, wavering shadow of a person was curled up at the bottom of the crater. It had pointed ears, and a pair of prominent antlers.

Furthermore, its legs appeared to be amputated from the knee down. It tried to stand, before being forced to collapse and crawl instead.

It looked up towards towards the street once more. The only features of its expression, its eyes and frown, were contorted into a concerned expression, and a barely audible hiss escaped the being as the dim blue light behind its eyes flickered and the iridescence on its shadowy form shifted.

It pinned its tufted ears against its head, and reached up to crawl out of the hole once more.

It got half way to the peak, claws digging into the now-elongating shadows cast by the fading light and weaving its way up the stone side. Due to its nature, it had to make constant contact with the stone wall as it traveled upwards. 

But as it grasped onto the shadows of a loose stone, the rock came tumbling down. It’s shadow caught on the bottom of the figure, which hissed out a near silent screech. As the shadow of the rock tugged the bottom of the shadowy figure down, it tumbled back down to the bottom of the pit, despite its desperate claws digging into the rough wall.

Lying in a heap at the bottom of the pit, it pushed weakly at the shadow of the rock that had pinned the tattered end of one shadowy leg. The figure’s ears were pinned flat and its downcast eyes searched the pit desperately with concern. 

It froze, as voices rang out over the top of the crater.

“This place is a shithole, it's only going to get destroyed again,” one rough voice called, punctuated with the sound of the person spitting onto the ground. “Hardly worth fixin’.”

“Orders are orders,” another, higher voice replied. 

The shadow was now pressed tightly against the wall, mouth closed and eyes squinted to minimize the iridescence it gave out. With a pained hiss, its form wavered and gave out. Just a small fragment crawled upwards, closer to the sound.

“Who’s paying for this again? Sure as hell ain’t either of the two who wrecked it. Plus no one important lives ‘round here, what gives?” The first voice responded. 

“Apparently some big shot had a business branch around here- uh- let me check.”

At the top of the crater, stood two demons. One an insectoid, and the other animalistic. The first, a termite, his pincers clicked impatiently in front of its face, as the second, some kind of rodent (a beaver perhaps?) paged through several pages filled with messy handwriting.

Neither noticed as a wisp of black shadow curled over the top of the crater.

“Better to leave it wrecked, I’d say,” the termite said, leaning over and looking down into the pit. He squinted his compound eyes. “What even did that? It looks like a bomb went off.”

“Uh, then it was probably the chick with the _ bombs _, right? I can never keep track of the new ones,” the beaver replied. He finally located the page he was looking for, reading over it quickly.

“Eh, I don’t know. See, that's why I live in an _established_ zone, don’t have to deal with this bullshit everyday. Just gotta make sure you don’t piss off _one_ important Overlord and you're good,” the termite sniffed. 

“Says… ‘Bad Valentine Studios,’ I think that’s one of Valentino’s,” the beaver responded, squinting at the paper.

“You’re telling me we’re rebuilding this shitty skid row out in the corner of the pentagram, because of a porn shop? It’s just gonna get fucked up again, he should just move his business,” the termite said, pincers clicking with an irritated snap.

“_ You _ wanna go tell an Overlord how to run his business? Huh? You gonna go lecture Ms Rosie next? _ No? _ Then let’s get it done and move on,” the beaver said, crossing his arms and tapping a foot in irritation. “I’ll call it in, you go figure out the measurements of that nightmare.”

He gestured at the crater. The wisp of shadow shied away, but it remained unseen.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” the termite muttered, snapping his pincers again and walking over to the crater edge. The wisp skittered across the ground as he approached. 

“Hello? Yes, Mister Valentino, sir,” the beaver’s voice called from farther down the street. “We can give you an invoice by- I’m sorry?” 

As the termite reached the edge and leaned over, squinting his compound eyes again, the wispy shadow coalesced for a moment, forming a disembodied hand. Claws extended, it wrapped around the shadow of the demon’s ankle.

“...the hole? We’re measuring it right now. Ah, I mean, it looks like an explosion. I’m not sure what exactly caused… “

“Ow!”

The termite looked down to its foot, squinting as it saw nothing.

“I’m sorry, did you say Mister _ Vox _ wanted to know? Well, we’ll investigate of _ course, _but-”

“What the hell-?”

With a pull, the demon went tumbling, face first, into the crater, rolling down the side and plummeting into the hole. The sound of a bone snapping rang through the air as the termite landed on a brittle arm, hissing and cursing as he settled at the bottom of the hole. 

The figure, which had been tucked against the side of the crater, grinned a wide, wicked grin for the first time since it coalesced. Its dim eyes flickering red for a moment, before it rushed forward and ducked underneath the shadow of the fallen demon. 

“Aw shit- uh I mean- can I call you back, sir?”

The beaver appeared over the top of the crater, squinting down at his coworker. 

“What the hell? What happened?” he called.

“Musta tripped, I don’t know, get me out of here, I think I broke something,” the termite hissed. As he scrambled to his feet, he didn’t hear the gleeful hiss of the silhouette, or notice the way it curled around his shadow’s shoulders.

With grumbled curses and constant stumbling, the beaver helped the termite out of the hole. The termite tripped again and again, holding his arm gingerly and trying to shake off a strange weight that seemed to have settled over his body.

When he finally reached the top, the weight seemed to lift, and he let out a sigh of relief. 

Neither demon noticed the shadow quickly slinking away, oozing across the ground to hide in the sanctuary of the shadowy alleyway nearby. 

It lingered in the entrance to the alley, sliding down against the wall until it was sitting against the ground. It flickered slightly and its edges rose and fell, as if taking a breath. Its eyes, now simply empty instead of alight, looked over to its right limb, tilting a head and examining it.

It was missing a right hand. The wisps of shadow flickered for a moment, refusing to solidify into the shape of a hand. The light behind the shadow’s eyes flickered red once, and the hand finally formed. 

It dropped the hand again, eyes fading out and head tilting to rest on one shoulder. It hissed slightly, eyes flickering closed for a moment, resting.

A tired static chirp sounded, muffled, from the throat of the figure, before it slowly rose again and turned. It stumbled, still missing both of its feet and shins.

It raised its head, empty eyes traveling up to the sight of the radio tower in the distance. It watched as red lightning shot out from the top of the tower, brightening up the city for just a moment. It did a marvelous job of lighting up the dark night sky.

Then it turned, locating the towering neon signs of the ‘Happy Hotel,’ which flickered on and off, before steadying out once again.

It paused for a moment, before dissipating into a trail of black smoke and taking off down the alley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm over on tumblr if you want to send me any messages or talk about Hazbin. I also make shitty memes over there, so there's some quality content.
> 
> Please leave a comment if you'd like, they really inspire me to keep going and I read every one! <3


	3. Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor struggles to figure out these new powers that are presenting in front of him, while he struggles to deftly avoid any social interaction in the process, obviously.
> 
> Angel continues to bother everyone, but only because everyone else seems to know something he doesn't and for the first time they're actually not snitching.
> 
> A shadow makes a mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone again after like, four months? Five? 
> 
> Here's my update which was written in several chunks over several months, which I hope I was able to throw together coherently enough haha!
> 
> Two songs referenced in this chapter: "Kisse Misse," by Annella and "Trouble," also by Annella! Both are great songs, I'd recommend listening to them if you like electro swing style stuff with a bit more pop

The moment the arching front doors slammed closed behind Alastor, he closed his eyes and took one deep, steadying breath. For just a second he tried to let the tension slide off his shoulders, and reached up to rub at his wrist. He slipped one strangely clawed fingertip under the edge of his bandages and dragged it along his skin as he grounded himself once more. His smile grew ever so slightly less strained as he made an effort to unhinge his locked jaw and blinked his eyes open.

For a moment, he felt collected.

Then he remembered he had to make his way to a radio tower, which he was clueless to the location of.

The strain returned to his shoulders and the hinges of his jaw locked back into a tense smile. His eyes narrowed and he felt a buzzing tension in his entire body.

“Alastor?” a high pitched voice called out, making him snap his head sharply in its direction.

In front of him, paused mid-step on her climb up the front steps, was a small woman. Her arms were full carrying large paper bag comically overflowing with groceries. She blinked her one large eye at him, before her stillness evaporated and she began to move.

Alastor’s mind narrowed onto the final unidentified person from the “Grand Reopening” picture. She had appeared similarly frozen, caught in motion by the flash of the film as she was by whatever had overcome her just then, but the spell was broken.

Because boy did she move. And move, and move, and move.

She frowned at him as she practically vibrated her way up the steps, shifting the grocery bag and looping one precarious arm around it as she began to tug at Alastor’s coat, scowling. She aimed the glare up at him, and for the first time since childhood that he could _remember_, Alastor felt genuinely chastised. 

“What happened? Oh, this is going to take forever to fix! The ends are all tattered, that’ll need hemmed and goodness! What is with all this soot! I’ll have to steam it and, oh, this blood! I know you wear red for a reason Alastor but  _ I  _ can tell and it’s splattered all over and I  _ just  _ got the stain out of your last one! And before you say you can snap your fingers and fix it  _ I  _ know the stain’s still there and it’s going to drive me _crazy_ and- oh.”

The nonstop stream of babble came to an abrupt halt. Alastor had frozen, ears perked ramrod straight up and wide eyes following the small woman’s movements, darting rapidly with her. His smile was crooked, but only because he was struggling to overcome the sudden wave of her energy and movement. She’d circled him three times, nearly dropping her groceries on the ground as she practically teleported and ran her hands over every inch of his outfit, _touching him._

She had only frozen as she squinted at the front door, lips pursed into an unreadable frown.

“Well, I don’t know how to sew  _ that one _ back together, am  _ I _ supposed to sew that back together? Where even is the rest of it! Oh, too bad you’ve never explained, huh! But I guess that means you’re not helping with dinner?  _ Oh dear  _ that’s another thing on my list now! I thought I’d have a little help anyway! Ugh. That’s too much for me, not with dinner too! So you’re going to go take care of that at least, right?”

She looked up at him expectantly. 

Alastor, who had caught perhaps one third of the high pitched buzzing coming out of the woman’s mouth, hesitated only a second before nodding.

“Why, of course. I’ll get right on it,” he responded, taking her moment of pause to inch away from her touchy fingers. Only once the shock wore off did he fully realize her actions and begin to bristle.

“Good, good. Ugh, and at the state of you I assume there’s a bloody mess inside too? Not that I can’t take care of it but, I just got the place ship-shape and-”

“I’m sure it’s nothing you can’t take care of,” Alastor said, quickly moving past the woman. He had a feeling he’d have to confront her later, but certainly wasn’t prepared to face that hurtle now. She sounded like she could interrogate him at a mile a minute, and he was already tired from being confronted with all the other strange characters’ questions today. He didn’t have the mental capacity for more

“Wait!” She called, and Alastor froze again against his will. It was like his body reacted independently of his thoughts sometimes, and he felt aggravated with it as his knees locked up again at the sharp and concerned tone in this woman’s voice.

He didn’t _care_ if she was upset, and he wasn’t spooked by her _concern_.

Except for some reason he  _ was  _ and it made him downright aggravated. 

His ear twitched in annoyance and he ground his teeth together as he spun around, unconsciously pinning her with a glare.

She paused again, eye wide at the intensity of the scowl. Raised in her hand, was a prepackaged sandwich. Her sudden spike of fear, which for some reason Alastor could  _ feel _ , tempered down quickly into a fierce annoyance of her own. She squinted.

She tossed the sandwich in his direction and sniffed huffily. 

“Eat something, grumpy pants, preferably not a resident,” she snipped, with a tight smile before spinning on her heels and reaching for the handle of the door.

Alastor heard the voices of the two other residents inside growing louder, heading towards the door, and made the decision to calmly but  _ quickly  _ step down the stairs. He just got away from the first two, and he didn't want to have to face Angel and the cat again so quickly, he thought. He paced himself as he rushed off down the street, just to turn the first corner he found. 

He had no idea where he was going.

* * *

  
  


“I said I don’t want to know, I don’t want to be involved, and if you tail me all the way to Mimzy’s I swear I’ll-”

Husk paused, but only because the door to the lobby burst open in a violent swing which he had to quickly backpedal to dodge. At first, he thought Alastor had returned to do something else equally weird as hell, but instead he saw the short figure of Nifty precariously balancing a large bag of groceries.

“Oops! Sorry!” she called out, darting across the entrance way and tossing the bag on the front desk as she did a scan of the room. Her eye narrowed as she fluttered around like an overactive hummingbird, searching the floor and walls. “Now, where’s the mess? I know there’s a mess!”

Husk sighed, but Angel seemed momentarily distracted by Nifty, cutting off his persistent line of awful nicknames and pestering. 

“Oh, sorry Nifty, I think Al tossed some broken glass on the floor but that’s really all that-”

The woman’s focus narrowed in on Angel and she screeched a high pitched shriek, making both Angel and Husk jump.

“Oh and your outfit too! Both you boys have just gone and ruined it all! Not to mention the dirt and soot you’ve been leaving everywhere- just- nope!”

She teetered back and forth for a moment, before rushing up and tugging at his clothing and arms. Oddly, she leaned around to squint at the wall behind Angel, before nodding confidentiality. 

“Well at least  _ you’re  _ all in one piece at least! You better not be leaving any pieces anywhere for me to clean up!” she sniffed, seemingly contented. 

“Whazzat supposed to mean?” Angel asked, frowning and looking down at her.

“Oh yeah, you noticed too?” Husk asked, then immediately regretted asking when Angel spun and pinned him with an accusatory look and a point.

“Noticed  _ what? _ What the hell is there to notice, Husk?” he pressed, making Husk groan as Nifty skittered away to clean the floor.

“So I take it you two won’t be at dinner then?” she asked, raising one of the broken pieces of glass up to her eye and squinting at it. She looked over at Husk and raised it and tilted her head. When he just shrugged exaggeratedly, she hummed a noncommittal sound and swept up the rest of the pieces.

“Heading to Mimzy’s,” Husk replied, turning to leave. As Angel began to follow him, he reached up to drag a paw down his face. “And you’re not going to follow me the whole way and be a pain in the ass, right?”

“‘Course not,” Angel said with a deceptive smile, “as long as you tell me what the hell you’re hiding, is all.”

He then, of course, proceeded to follow Husk the whole way, making sure to be an extra special pain in the ass. Because really, he needed an inside tip if he was going to be able to deal with whatever the hell Alastor was up to. That’s all he wanted, a little info.

Husk on the other hand just wanted a drink.

  
  


* * *

In his defense, Alastor himself wasn’t sure exactly what the hell he was up to. 

He took a moment to pause when he was sure he’d gotten far enough away to avoid another encounter with any of those people from the hotel, ducking into an alley and leaning against the nearby wall.

A sudden image struck him, rather unpleasantly. Perhaps that was how he would regain his memory, in sharp images and flashes, because that’s all it was: a brief flash of an image that felt imposed upon his mind. 

He saw an alleyway, similar to this one. Only this view looked out onto a fierce crater in the ground, and beyond that, loomed an impressive metal antenna. The image held for a moment, hot behind his eyes, before fizzling out and filling his line of sight with visual static.

Oh, well there you go. That was easy.

Alastor blinked, shaking his head as he scanned the red scenery around him. Still, nothing was familiar, but he could likely remember the path he’d taken from the crater from the hotel.

Only, he hadn’t paid much attention when he’d fled the hotel.

A fiery tension filled Alastor again as he clenched his fists and felt rage bubble up under his skin. His smile twitched as he grew dangerously still. He was furious at himself, his behavior. He would have never been so reckless and overconfident before, why was he acting so strangely? Sure, he’d faked confidence in front of friends and foes alike, but he was always acutely aware of everything, never let his guard down for even a moment, lest his act come undone and the life he’d carefully cultivated come to a screeching halt. 

Had he somehow thrown that awareness, the most cunning part of him, fall to the wayside in his pride? In death? Surely not.

He felt… ungrounded, off kilter. One second he would be sharp as a tack, and the next his feet were slipping out from under him and he felt dazed. 

And he  _ hated it. _

He just didn’t feel quite like himself. He resolved to find someone to blame for that post-haste, and subsequently resolved to take out this simmering frustration out on them. If unceremoniously strangling someone could fix the issue, he’d have it done in a heartbeat.

With a sigh, he glanced down at the sandwich still held tightly in one hand, before shrugging and unwrapping it. It was slightly squashed, but he wasn’t one to waste food. Ever.

He took a bite, surprised at how sharp his teeth had become. Perhaps he had been hungry. The moment the taste of meat hit his tongue, he realized he’d been ravenous. Odd it hadn’t struck him before that moment, hadn’t even been on his mind.

The pitiful excuse for a lunch was gone in an instant, and Alastor was reduced back to sighing and glancing around fruitlessly.

Perhaps, if he concentrated, he could bring that image up again. Or perhaps a different, more helpful image.

He closed his eyes, focusing in on the brief flash of what he assumed was memory, and tried to pry his way into his own mind. He wanted to get to this tower, to investigate more, to figure out just what the hell was wrong with him.

He felt foolish doing so, when ultimately he turned up nothing, staring at nothing but the blackness behind his eyes. His breath fizzed with static as he opened his eyes in disappointment.

Only to startle at the strange red image hovering eye level in front of his face.

“Curious,” he muttered, reaching up. It seemed almost physical, despite being a simple symbol made of red light. He waved his hand all around it, checking for where the image could have been projected from. Despite his efforts, nothing made it falter. That is, until he finally reached forward and let his hand graze the red lights.

It burst into a shower of sparks. Alastor stepped back quickly, avoiding the majority of the flickering energy as it rained out and over the ground. Just the edges of it brushed against his hand and steamed with a slight heat.

He bit back a curse, before realizing that the light seemed to have formed a trail of barely visible red static over the cobblestones. Looking like nothing more than a sprinkle of red dust that was blown by the wind over the alley ground and out onto the street.

Alastor raised an eyebrow as he leaned out, eyes tracking as the faint glow traveled down the street and made a sharp turn at the next visible corner.

He glanced down, at where the few sparks that had hit him danced over the hand that had made contact, weaving between his fingers before flickering out.

“Neat,” he remarked, smiling and tilting his head. 

He tucked the hand neatly into his pockets before setting off after the sparks.

It was about the only lead he had, and it sure was leading… somewhere.

Might as well.

  
  


* * *

“For the last time, no, I don’t think radio signals can be hacked by TV programmers, and if they could, I do not think goddamn Vox would be making Alastor  _ nicer.  _ Aaaand we’re here! Now leave me the fuck alone.”

Husk burst through the door to Mimzy’s  _ Drinkin’ Place _ and casino with force, moving as quickly away as he could from Angel Dust, who was close enough to step on his tail.

He made a beeline for the bar, gesturing for the regular bartender he was acquainted with. The weasel-like demon nodded his way, and sent a glass of whiskey sliding down the bar, which Husk caught neatly and immediately began drinking.

“I’m just saying, I’ve thought it over a lot in... the past ten minutes, and it’s the only plausible answer I mean- what else is there? Alastor  _ likes  _ me now? Haha, yeah right- I mean...  _ right? _ ”

“Look, I don’t know why you’re asking me. Now let me drink in peace,” Husk snapped, glaring at Angel and taking a sip of his whiskey.

At that moment, all the lights in the bar flickered off.

“What the-” Angel began, jumping to his feet. For a moment, he looked around in concern, mind racing back to all the strange electrical occurrences that had happened recently. Only, Alastor wasn’t around, so what could-

The room lit up in shades of pink and red, spotlights flickering on and sweeping across the room to land on the stage as the sound of trumpets and saxophones filled the air.

Angel casually sat back down, grinning sheepishly and feeling somewhat foolish as the curtain behind the stage parted and Mimzy stepped out to the chorus of brass. She played with a bright pink boa draped over her shoulders as she began to sing.

A wolf demon from the crowd gave a thematically appropriate wolf whistle as the club focused in on her. 

_ His love is sweeter than candy _

_ His kiss, addictive like sugar _

_ Supposed to only be my rebound _

_ He turned out to be the man _

A backup chorus of voices materialized from the stage to back up Mimzy as she took off her boa and tossed it to the crowd.  _ Totally right man. _

“Jumpy?” Husk asked, making Angel turn to glare at him. He reached up absently to rub at the sore spot on his chest and rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, it’s been a rough day,” he gestured to the weasel bartender to order a drink.

Husk absently considered making some comment that Angel was already in trouble, and breaking his short streak of sobriety wasn’t likely to get him on Charlie’s good side. But then he decided it was way too much effort to care, and finished off his own drink and gestured for another himself.

_ His hands are pure magic _

_ He knows how to use his God-given tools _

_ He makes me want him even more _

_ He is the man  _

Angel and Husk sat for a moment, and Husk was almost certain Angel had let the topic drop.

“So I know you said-” he began.

“One more word and I’m cutting you off at the hotel for a month,” Husk threatened. Angel slumped even more, dejected. 

When a passerby gave him a lewd side eye, he came back to himself. He was still covered in dust, and realized that he really should have cleaned up before heading out, but Husk had hightailed it so quickly and he'd been... concerned or whatever. He brushed off what he could and he adjusted his posture to make sure the lean seemed effortless and his chest was positioned correctly. Hey, he still had an image to keep up.

_ I wanna eat him _

_ I wanna squeeze him _

_ Ladies, you need to meet him _

Angel watched the performance, as Mimzy drew out the words in emphasis.

Mimzy was a born performer and she knew it. She did regular shows herself, but often enough she would invite the other more dramatically inclined demons to put on a show themselves. Angel had never done so himself, but one time he’d seen Mimzy and Alastor do a sort of swing duet. It had reminded him that the two of them had apparently been acquainted in life, even before death came to bring all their doomed souls together.

They’d had a real rhythm.

_ It's him, all about him, ooh-ooh _

“Ain’t Al supposed to be making some kind of announcement?” Angel muttered under his breath. He glanced away, over to the stereo system, giving it an inappropriately intense glare.

“Fucking  _ hell _ , if you were gonna moan about it so much, why didn’t you go with him!” Husk groaned, eyeing up the poker table in the next room. 

“Rude,” Angel sniffed in reply. Unfortunately, it made him wonder, should he have gone with Alastor? He worriedly mulled the thought over, until he was distracted by a wolf demon eyeing him up from across the room. He shot the man a wink on impulse. Husk scoffed.

Angel rested his cheek against his arm propped up on the bar, suddenly incredibly tired _ . _

_ I love the way he teases me _

_ Pleases me _

_ What he sees in me _

Mimzy’s song came to a flourishing end, the spotlights reflected off her porcelain skin and the pink pupils of her eyes and her glimmering pink necklace seemed to emit a light of their own. She did a spin, raising her arms to the applause of the crowd and a few more actual wolf whistles. 

_ Kisse misse, kisse misse, kisse misses me _

All the lights shut off dramatically once again as the last whisper faded out, before slowly filtering on in a much more subtle shade of pink in traditional club lighting.

Even Husk gave a few unenthusiastic claps, before returning to his drink. Angel pursed his lips, hesitating for an unnecessarily long moment before following suit. He scowled at himself, shaking his head to clear it. 

The live music seemed to be on break after the performance, and the stereo automatically clicked on. The radio station's remixed swing music was broadcasted out across the floor. Angel knew that Mimzy could just hire more performers to keep the live entertainment going all night, but that she specifically played Alastor’s radio station when the band was on break. You know, because… they were buddies or... whatever.

He rubbed absently at his chest before turning his gaze away from the stage.

Either way, any song that came through Alastor’s station into Mimzy’s club always seemed to mingle with Mimzy’s magic, creating a mix of their different show tune aesthetics. Angel wasn’t exactly sure how that worked, his “powers” revolved around hidden arms and being incredibly good at hiding firearms on his person. 

The radio began to blast the base of some swing remix as Angel sighed. He slouched more, bangs falling in his eyes. 

“Well if it isn’t two of my favorite boys!” a chipper female voice called out, as the sound of heels on the floor signaled the demon’s approach.

* * *

  
  


Across Pentagram City from Mimzy's club, was a similarly shaped pentacle radiating pure simmering energy. It bubbled up, sparking like a live wire- at any moment ready to explode and broadcast its energy into the air and into existence. 

In the center of the pentagram, was a broadcast tower.

Approaching the edge of the pentagram, was a shadow.

It was wispy, weak and frayed at the edges. Each time it reached out its claws to pull itself forward, they dissipated into a shadowy smoke at the tips as they scratched across the ground.

It finally crawled its way over to the barrier, letting out a distorted hiss as it touched the edge of the designated ground. Red symbols, only visible to itself, appeared in the air. It let out a chirp of radio static and grabbed onto the energy. With a surge, it passed over the threshold.

Once inside, everything changed. It solidified quite completely, racing with an incredible burst of speed over to the wall of the building. As it touched it's surface, the shadow chirped happily again, darting upwards and hovering against the red brick. It was able to confidently hang against the wall, the lack of lower legs no longer bothering it. 

It grinned widely, and bits of black smoke gathered at its hands. Had anyone been standing near, they would have felt their hair stand up as static electricity hummed in the air. It’s eyes flickered red and it paused an appropriately dramatic beat, before it snapped a finger.

Nothing happened.

It’s grin fell immediately and it let out an animalistic hiss, teeth in its shadow sharpening.

It drew a fast sigil in the air, and snapped its finger again.

Nothing happened.

It threw both arms down, trying to stomp a foot, only to seemingly remember that said foot was still missing.

In apparent frustration, it reached over and grabbed onto the shadow of a nearby lamppost. It dug its claws against the metal, causing a shrieking high pitched piercing noise to fill the air as it pulled with all its strength to bend the lamppost. The physical object bent to its will, neatly folding.

Unsatisfied, the shadow gathered energy again, ready to throw electricity at the mangled scrap that was what was left of the streetlight.

It paused, as it felt a wavering connection. It dropped the energy, and quickly tapped into the live wire.

A pleasant shock of electricity sparked around the shadow, before racing down the wire. It smiled widely, as it saw a fizzle of red static race down the cobblestone path and away towards the city.

It released the wire, nodding confidently. 

It turned back to the lamppost, giving it one last shove to send it skittering across the ground in satisfaction. 

“ _ The hell was that? _ ” A voice called out from inside the station.

The shadow froze, suddenly becoming dull and semi transparent. It’s eyes narrowed and the edges of it frayed out once more, blending into the dim light.

“ _ If you move quicker, you won’t have to worry about it, _ ” an answering voice replied, muffled even further.

The shadow, free and empowered, darted up the wall of the building in the blink of the eye, reverting back to smoke. The shadow wisp gathered at the edge of an upper window, before sending in a part of it to creep over the windowsill.

Inside the tower, was a demon. 

The shadow hissed unpleasantly, solidifying slightly on the outside of the window just to glare, red light flickering behind its eyes.

The demon stood in the center of the recording booth, looking over the various controls with a clear look of confusion on his face. He was vaguely humanoid with gelled back hair, and wore a striped suit in red, black, and blue with a vivid blue glowing symbol emblazoned on his arm. In his hand, he held a sort of video communication device, with the same clear logo on it- the wavelength underlining the “ _ Wi-Fi _ ” signal. 

On the other side of the communicator, was a smug looking demon wearing a homburg hat with a small antenna sticking up from the side of it, as if tucked into the black ribbon running around the brim of the hat. Inside their pupils were a variety of neon television bar colors.

The shadow drug its claws against the brick wall, causing flecks of dust and dirt to chip off and tumble to the ground.

“Shut up,” the first demon said, spinning to look at the window with concern. “Why am I the one who has to be here anyway? If the Radio Demon comes back, I’m done in,” he hissed, turning back to the control panel. He turned the video device to the various switches and knobs. “Which one am I supposed to press?”

“The Radio Demon isn’t coming, Vox confirmed it,” the demon on the other side replied smugly. “Specifically, he had a good maniacal laugh about it, and followed it with ‘he wouldn’t in his right mind go to the 'transmission point' in his state,’ and that he’d probably be hiding out at that hotel while he was putting the pieces back together. So if you hurry up, stick to the production schedule. you won’t have to worry about it.”

“Cool, cool, great, _wonderful, _now you want to tell me which fucking button I’m pushing?” the first demon hissed, waving his camera at the panel.

“Haven’t you ever been in a studio before?” the other asked.

“What? No, I was a film  _ major _ . Just tell me-”

The two demons bickered as the shadow levered a translucent arm under the door, and pried it open slowly.

“There!” 

Suddenly, the radio antennae stopped buzzing with energy and all the lights in the station flickered off. The machinery gave a couple beeps in complaint, before powering off. A last flash of red lightning shot off the top of the tower into the sky, as if trying to escape, before it grounded again and all the energy slipped off the metal and back into the ground.

“Don’t forget to check for that strange microphone,” the demon on the communicator 'helpfully' added.

“The hell is a strange microphone? There’s a million microphones in here!” 

“The red one, with the  _ eye _ ,  _ obviously _ . Vox said there shouldn’t be any more, but to check anyway just to be safe,” the other replied, already distracted and tapping away at a different switchboard in front of them on the other side of the screen.

The shadow practically vibrated with malice as it finally seeped into the room.

“What’s the point of that, anyway?” the first demon asked, frowning as he squinted at a spare mic.

“Something about getting rid of 'the output'? Look, I’m not exactly asking a lot of clarifying questions here, old pal. Vox says do something, you say ‘yes sir’ and figure out how to do it like a good PA.”

The shadow gathered energy, beginning to buzz as electricity cracked through the air.

The intruder spun, alerted by a stray shock. His eyes focused in on the shadow snarling just on the other wall.

“Oh  _ hell! _ ” he shouted, backing away quickly. 

“What? What’s wrong?” the demon on the video asked, leaning closer to the screen and blinking their multicolored eyes.

“Shadow- shadow demon! What-?” he yelped and dodged as the shadow tried to throw the electricity his way. He dropped the communicator on the ground, face up, as he fumbled within his coat for his gun before bracing by lifting a hand to shield his face.

It fizzled out as soon as it left the shadows hand.

The demon paused, staring down the shadow as it fruitlessly tried to draw a symbol in the air. 

“Shadow demon? That shouldn’t-  _ what? _ ” the demon on the other side replied, leaning closer to the screen. “Hey, pick me back up!”

“Heh, well look at that won’t you-”

The shadow shrieked the sound of microphone feedback, before darting down and grabbing onto the demon’s leg and piercing his skin with its claws.

“ _ Ow! Fuck! _ ” the demon shouted, pointing his gun at the shadow and firing.

The shadow whizzed away to the control panel. With a decisive smack, it restarted the machinery which buzzed to life.

Music burst back into life.

A bolt of red lightning quickly raced up the antenna and into the sky with an accompanying crack of thunder. 

The shadow spun around, just in time to see the demon pulling a strange grenade out of its pocket. It pulled the pin, before hurling it in the direction of the recording booth.

“What-  _ what are you doing-! _ ” came distorted out of the communicator.

Suddenly, the booth lit up in a flash and the equipment went flying with the force of the shock wave.

The shadow shrieked as it dispersed into the air with a burst of light.

* * *

_ I'm busted, arrested _

_ So guilty _

_ You got me _

_ There's no excuse for me _

_ I'm busted, arrested _

_ So guilty _

_ You got me _

_ There's no escape from here _

The music in the bar shut off briefly, filling the club with eerie silence, before jumping back to life. Angel raised an eyebrow, but he was quickly distracted by Mimzy as she approached.

“Mimzy, heya,” he greeted smoothly, shooting her a couple finger guns. Husk tried to use the time to sneak away, but Angel had a lock on him, and reached out quickly to grab him with one of his lower arms.

“Not that I ain’t happy to see my favorite hotsy-totsy and cool cat,” she began, hopping up to sit on the bar, “but what brings you in? You’re both bringing down the party over here, lurking and scowling like all that.”

_ You got me _

_ In trouble _

_ I'm in trouble yet again _

Angel pouted before adjusting his expression.

“Sorry sister, just had a rough day is all,” Angel sighed, gesturing up and down at his outfit. 

_ You got me _

_ In trouble _

_ So much trouble yet again _

“So I heard,” she laughed, “woke up on the wrong end of the turf war I saw?”

Angel reached up to rub at the side of his head.

“That’s just the beginning of it,” he mumbled, considering all the concerns he had buzzing around in his head. Maybe he should just let it go, accept whatever weird shit had happened today and move on with his life. The idea was becoming more tempting.

“Don’t suppose you want to share? I'm a great listener,” she asked, batting her eyelashes at him. With a point to the bartender, she was quickly served up her own drink which she clinked against Angel's.

Angel glanced to Husk, who’s gaze was clearly straying towards the poker tables. Angel felt a weight on his chest and tickle in his throat that he covered by clearing it.

_ You thought you'd have your way with it _

_ You only meant to play with it _

_ You almost had a day with it _

_ You couldn't get away with it _

He coughed slightly again, turning back to Mimzy.

“No, it’s fine it’s just,” Angel hedged, before he paused to truly think it over. Husk knew Alastor longer than Angel, but Mimzy must have known him even  _ longer.  _ Maybe she would be able to help. Something about asking her put Angel off, but he figured it was the only smart move here. 

If he felt his heart drop at that moment, he really didn’t want to overthink why it felt that way.

And then it _kept_ dropping and suddenly he was worried maybe he should be thinking about the feeling more. He felt the oddest buzz in the air. 

The music on the radio caught, the sound of a record skipping as it shuffled between lines.

_ Again and again and again _

_ Trouble Again and again and again _

_ TroubleAgainandagainandagainTroubleAgainandagainandagainTrouble _

“Oh, old thing,” Mimzy grumbled, dropping off the bar and going over to adjust the speakers. She gave it a good knock with one fist, and the connection seemed to even out. 

Angel frowned, sighed as he shook his head and took a long drink.

“Actually, yeah, Mimzy, can I ask you something?”

* * *

  
  


Alastor had the strangest feeling as he strolled down the streets of Pentagram City. Luckily, the radio tower hadn’t been as far as he feared. Retracing his steps to the crater hadn’t been difficult once he found his way, and the tower was visible past there. 

He paused for a minute to glance into the crater he’d woken up in, peeking over the edge curiously with perked ears. 

There were some construction workers milling at the other edge of the hole in the ground that he made sure to avoid the notice of. He didn’t need to be stressed with figuring out how to interact with the common populace right now.

He noticed that the crater was quite impressive, and that a variety of shrapnel and chunks of debris appeared to have collected at the bottom. The light caught on a couple pieces of red glass and crimson metal. 

He seemed almost called to it for just a moment-

-before shrugging and moving on, hands tucked in his pocket as he whistled a tune and followed the ‘ruby brick road’ that had appeared for him.

At no other time did he manage to summon any more of those strange red sigils, but once he spotted the antennae and saw that the static was indeed leading him there, he figured that was good enough for the moment.

Oddly enough, the closer he got to the tower, the more he felt inclined to break into a faster pace, but he made sure to regulate himself and resist the urge. It was like he was being pulled to the area.

When he finally got close enough, he saw an impressive surge of red lightning shoot out of the antennae before the scene grew quiet and calm.

Alastor looked up at the radio tower before him, grinning triumphantly as the last of the red sparks dimmed and dissipated into the cracks in the stone street. 

It had taken him to what he could only assume was a less populated area of the city, buildings becoming somewhat less cluttered together, it seemed. The streets had become barren, no citizens strolling around like they seemed pretty confident doing around the hotel. 

He wondered, briefly, which had come first: him moving into a decrepit area, or the area becoming decrepit after his presence was established.

From the way the few passersby had flinched and scurried away as he strolled down the street, along with his knowledge of his own preferences, either possibility seemed likely. 

The building itself seemed relatively simple, placed in a strangely cleared out area. Either the surrounding buildings had been demolished, or the city had decided that the radio center needed a good city block all to itself for some reason, what with all the bare concrete surrounding it. The looming radio tower was actually placed to the right of the building, and upon closer inspection, seemed abuzz with latent energy. He was somehow  _ sure  _ if he approached, the thing would give him a nasty shock just like the sigil had earlier.

“Finally, things are shaping up,” he commented idly to himself, as he approached the entrance to the building, eyeing the tower as he strode by.

He rattled the door knob, expecting to come across another obstacle to hurtle, only to find it unlocked already. Al had never been one to leave his front door open, but maybe he’d overlooked it, being so busy with… whatever it was he was busy with nowadays.

Either way, he stayed alert as he pushed the door open and glanced around.

He paused, surprised at the striking similarity to his old station. The lobby itself, orderly with a neat desk in front and a staircase in the back, presumably leading up to the office and recording booth on the second floor. For a moment, he was drawn back to long nights sitting behind a microphone, gazing thoughtfully out at the surrounding scenery. His station, though, had been out at the edges of the city, with fields of dead grass and the bayou buffering it from the rest of the world. It had only been established in 1922 after all, and the somewhat isolated space was deemed most appropriate to construct the looming metal tower.

Every night, while the daytime crew tipped their hats to Al on their way out, he passed through this lobby before happily taking the mic up for himself. Nobody else wanted the graveyard shift after all, but Al never minded the seclusion. He felt equally at home stalking through the murky forest on a hunt as he did tucked behind his desk once every other coworker slipped away for the night. Solitude, after all, was filled with the least amount of variables. 

He mused, briefly, how he had inversely come to be surrounded by so many people in death. 

Alastor walked into the lobby, shutting the door behind him and clicking the lock into place. He hadn’t made the mistake of leaving the door unlocked in a long time, he’d learned his lesson. 

His eyes darted around the lobby as he passed through. Disappointingly, there didn’t seem to be any hint of how his life had developed since he... died. In fact, it only made his living memories all the more vivid in his mind. He glanced at a vase perched on the corner of the desk, remembering when the station secretary had replaced the living flowers with silk ones, fed up with the mens’ inability to keep a plant alive whenever she had a vacation.

He frowned. Had he recreated the office for a reason? Were his coworkers here as well? It seemed unlikely, they’d never really liked him anyway. Despite his best efforts to charm them, he felt as though those closest to him always sensed some part of his true self. He wondered what they had said about him when he died.

He grimaced, turning away and heading towards the stairs.

Alastor climbed the stairs, one hand trailing on the banister as he made his way up to the recording studio. Oddly enough, as he pulled his hand back and lifted it to his face, he found dust on his fingertips.

So he hadn’t been up-keeping the tower as much as he should have been it seems. Spending most of the time at his hotel perhaps? With Angel? Or the rest of them? Sure, he’d courted some convenient alibis when he was alive, but never so much that he let his career suffer for it.

It just didn’t seem in character for him. Something about it struck a wrong chord, but he found no other explanation for the station. Something must have changed, but why or how? He wasn’t sure.

With each step he took up the stairs, an intense feeling began to wash over him. He glanced over his shoulder a couple times, as the feeling of being watched began to settle into his bones and prickle at him. And yet, furthermore with each step he was filled with a sense of giddiness, of energy even!

He reached the top of the stairs, shoes settling on the ground, a confident clack as he straightened his back and painted on his signature smile. He didn’t notice how the edges of his hair began to frizz and his eyes lit up ever so slightly. He couldn’t exactly see it himself.

He reached out and began to push open the door, only to freeze as he heard a sound.

He didn’t even breathe, as his ears perked and he tracked the sound of someone walking across the floor on the other side of the door.

Inside him, something was buzzing, urging him to open the door, to confront whoever was on the other side and  _ tear  _ them down,  _ rend _ them in half,  _ rip off _ what was left in his hands  _ and _ -

Woah now. He blinked it back, shaking his head. One step back. Maybe they were another one of these strange new acquaintances. Or a coworker.

He couldn’t say he’d never felt such destructive urges towards his coworkers while alive. Actually, the more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed. He would have loved to have had the ability to rend his old manager in half at some point before he was so untimely cut down before his time.

“Alright,” he murmured to himself, putting on a less hungry smile before pushing the door open and stepping in. “Ah, excuse me-”

He froze, as he took in the state of the studio. 

The place was ransacked, equipment and supplies thrown on the ground, papers scattered everywhere. The glass on the recording booth was cracked, likely by the microphone stand that had been broken in half and impaled through it. 

Overall, It looked as if a small explosion had gone off inside. And standing in the center of it all was a demon dressed in a tacky red, blue, and black outfit, fumbling with the control panel inside the recording booth.

He spun to face Alastor, eyes widening at the sight of him and backing up frantically.

“Shit,  _ you  _ aren’t supposed to be here  _ either! _ ”

So not a coworker then.

The demon already had his back to the wall. He seemed scared which, truthfully, was a wonderful boost to Alastor’s morale. He confidently stepped closer, and vaguely noted a strange glowing blue symbol emblazoned on the arm of his clothing: a jagged line underlining a dot that had several curved half circles over it.

“Sorry to intrude,” Alastor drawled, letting that giddy feeling sweep back over him again as he felt his more destructive impulses begin to sing. “Seems you’ve been getting rather busy in here without me.”

He unconsciously reached for something, fumbling for only a fraction of a second when his hand found nothing. Instead, he snatched up a spare microphone stand and smiled at the familiar weight in his hand. Oddly enough, he felt quite confident wielding it as a weapon.

“Now, why don’t you tell me who you are, and why you’re here,” Alastor asked. It gave him a surge of relief to finally be able to voice what he’d been thinking the entire time since he woke up in that crater. It gave him even more relief to know he’d most likely be silencing the person he spoke the weakness to afterwards.

Suddenly, the fear on the demon’s face contorted into anger. Flight turned to fight as he realized his half baked escape had failed. He snarled and reached for something hidden in the folds of his jacket, and Alastor was filled with the knowledge that he had to act fast. Luckily, he was always ready to act fast.

“Why don’t you stay in pieces you- wait-” the demon began, pulling some sort of grenade from his coat. He already brandished a firearm with one hand.

Alastor planned to use the end of the mic stand to first disrupt the attacker’s aim by striking his wrist from afar, before darting forward to use the splintered end of the stand to do some real damage. He was already putting the movement into action as a wave of enthusiasm and energy hit him all at once. 

He neatly smacked the grenade, sending it flying in a neat arc out the open window. The desire to make some sort of banter overwhelmed him, which truly would have been a waste of time in the process of defending himself, but his inner showman prodded the impulse on. He grinned, before pulling back and twisting the microphone stand so its sharpened end was aimed at the attacker’s throat.

Actually, the power he felt at that moment was entirely all consuming, and he  _ knew  _ this pathetic demon in front of him was doomed. A shadow even fell over the two of them, highlighting the moment. Everything was as it should be. Finally.

And then Alastor’s legs must have spontaneously combusted.

That was the only explanation for why suddenly his feet felt as though they had been welded to the ground, and why the fire that had sealed him in place so quickly raced up his legs to his waist, his chest, his heart, his face.

Truthfully, the shadowy figure had weakly coalesced behind him, a wide grin causing a large hole in the shadow’s face as it crawled its way across the floor towards him. As Alastor drew the microphone stand back, the shadow frantically clawed its way up the wall, and aligned itself with Alastor’s actions. With a snap, the figure clicked back into place, whole again and seemed strengthened more than ever. 

It smiled widely, before its expression collapsed into confusion, then panic as things began to escalate.

All of this, Alastor was unaware of.

He shrieked, a red burst of electricity flying off of his body as he staggered. It seared him where it danced across his skin.

Which gave his attacker just enough time to get a shot off of whatever that firearm was into his shoulder. Unlike the fire, that had now decided to solidify into an electrified barbed wire threaded through his very veins, that shot felt almost cold. It was nothing more than an annoyance. Which  _ should have _ been exhilarating, had the all consuming electrical pain not been eclipsing every other thought in his head.

Alastor tried to speak, to say something, but all that came out of his throat was overloaded static. He spun, to try and see something, to see what must have attacked him from behind and caused this.

All he caught sight of was his own shadow, lit up by the bright red sparks cascading off his body. Funnily enough, the eyes of his shadow were also flashing red, empty as it stared back at him. It didn’t look quite right, but he hardly had the mind to analyze that now.

He spun back towards his attacker, missing how the shadow, now fully attached, tried to tug at him in a frenzy. It’s wide eyes and frown uncharacteristically panicked. It was moving frantically, drawing some sort of sigil in shadowy mist, but it only evaporated away. It tried again, and this time it spurred even more electricity to shock Alastor. It gave up, and pulled at him again with its hands, desperately, to no effect.

It’s eyes darted down to their now connected feet. 

It let out the panicked sound of microphone feedback, before darting towards the ground.

Alastor tried to strike out against the other demon, for surely  _ he _ had done something to him, but stumbled as another shock wave of electricity ran through him, lighting him up from the inside. 

The demon, who had scrambled away from the initial burst of energy, lit up in a much different way. His eyes gleamed and he smiled as he saw his opening. He drew his firearm again and aimed it at the crumbling form of Alastor.

A sudden feeling of dread and pain washed over Alastor, as he felt something  _ tear _ inside of himself. All in a rush, the electricity was snuffed out. 

And with it, so was Alastor’s consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it wouldn't be one of my chapters if I didn't end on a cliffhanger - dun dun dun.  
Ah I'm sure he's fine, nobody else but Angel seems to be worried anyway 
> 
> All comments are really appreciated, they motivate me on :3
> 
> My tumble is jadetigress.tumblr.com if you want to talk over there

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is jadetigress.tumblr.com if anyone wants to talk there or bother me to remind me to keep creating content like a good author
> 
> Any feedback is highly appreciated! Thank for reading! <3


End file.
